Friday, May 21, 2010

Mothers Watch Your Sons



I was at the store the other day with Violet when she turned to me and said, “Me have boyfwend.” What? Four-year-olds don’t have boyfriends, and they shouldn’t even know about having them. Who is your boyfriend? “Him goes to my freschool. Me don know hims name.” How do you know he’s your boyfriend? “Because him do this . . .” She bent over from the waist and closed her eyes. What is that? “Me no wanna talk about it anymo.” Fine.



On the way home in the car, I asked more questions about this boyfriend. I started to doubt his existence when Violet told me he had hair like her sister’s and his face was the size of her fist. Also that “he always says I'm a pwincess . . . but me not.” He actually sounded pretty good until she said that he’s a “mean guy.”



Violet later swapped boyfriend stories with her sister, who immediately went into a description of how things are going with her first-grade boyfriend. What??? NO BOYFRIENDS! Daisy reassured me that her boyfriend doesn't really know that she is his girlfriend . . . yet. Both girls were glowing with excitement and soon they were claiming to have hundreds of boyfriends.



Wanting to share the love, Daisy asked, “Who’s your boyfriend?” I’m married to your dad. “But who’s your boyfriend? C’mon Mom, who is he? You can tell us!” Married people aren’t supposed to have boyfriends. “Why not?” Nevermind. I can see where this is going. It’s really best you don’t know what boyfriends are for.



I told their dad about the boyfriends when he got home from work. No exaggeration - he turned gray and nauseous looking. I saw an opportunity to drive home the point that every father of a girl must know . . . you are the blueprint for the boyfriends. Everything you do and say has an impact on your daughters' self-esteem and future relationships. Consider your every move. He nodded meekly.



Yesterday in the car, Violet and I were stopped in traffic and a man walked by who might have been homeless or at the very least, going through some hard times. “That’s not my boyfwend.” Well, I’m glad. “My boyfwend is wittle.” I asked her about the last time she saw her boyfriend. ”He doesn’t go to my freschool anymo.” Oh, thank god. I don’t care if he’s imaginary or not.


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