The topic of girls remains taboo in this house. I’m fairly certain 51% of the world either doesn’t exist or is invisible, not unlike the rollback of our rights by 50 years. But I digress… I’d never put my sons anywhere near that extremist club.
So girls are an unthinkable topic that of course I love to poke at on occasion. A few months back I pressed it a bit with Nate and he whipped around snarling, “Well I’m not gay.” Which I made abundantly clear is totally OK, more than OK, and that our family accepts whoever you love and makes you feel loved.
Today I’m pretty surprised when I pick Nate up at College for Kids and we’re still waiting for Jake. Nate’s in the backseat and he says, “Mom, there’s this girl in my cooking class.”
“Oh yeah?” I say casually. Mentally rubbing my hands together in giddy anticipation.
“She smells like poop. It’s teeeeerrible. And she sits right behind me.”
There it is. The girl talk I’m used to.