Early on in my pregnancy with Laszlo, I was told by an ultrasound technician that he was probably going to be a girl. I started to cry. There are many reasons why I was afraid of having a girl. Most of those reasons have to do with having been a teenage girl.
Having a teenage girl means that there’s a decent chance she could have an eating disorder, be extremely moody, dress a little too slutty, stop valuing her performance at school, be part of a bitchy clique and stop talking to her parents.
I’m assuming that, because except for a couple of those things (Okay, maybe just the eating disorder part), that’s how I was as a teenager. Teenage girls have also been known to want expensive clothes and accessories, which is my role in the family and one I’m not willing to share with someone else, let alone one who is younger and skinnier than me. (Thanks to her probable eating disorder.)
There are certain times when I start to think that having a daughter wouldn’t be so bad. Like when I want to go shopping for clothes or get a mani-pedi. Because of Laszlo’s intense interest in such manly things as cars, trains and digger trucks, I always assumed he would have no interest in doing “girly” things with me.
But one day when I was shopping online for some summer shorts, he came over to my computer and said, “Oh, that would be great for you!” I had no idea he had such strong opinions about fashion.
“Do you think so? It’s a little expensive. Should I buy it and you can tell Daddy you said it’s okay?”
“YES!” he said. “It’s okay.”
I clicked over to the next page on the website. “OH!” he said, pointing to a hot pink button up shirt. “That color might be good for you!”
I bought the shirt, even though I wasn’t sold on the color, and have gotten many compliments on it. Laszlo seems to know what he’s doing. Maybe he has a future in styling.
A few weeks later, I popped into a clothing store I was walking by, looked around briefly, and started to leave. “No!” Laszlo said. “You should buy something!” He was so invested in the idea of me buying a certain multi-colored beach cover-up, he almost started to cry when I didn’t buy it.
He’s a better shopping companion than the best girl friend, who might dissuade you from buying something that makes your ass look too big. Laszlo doesn’t care about how my ass looks in a dress. He just wants me to pamper myself. He believes that I should treat myself to a little something, since I work so hard taking care of a three year old.
A couple of weeks ago when we were visiting New York City, it was raining out and I didn’t know what to do with him.
“Do you want to go to a fun kids museum where there’s lot of fun things for kids to do?” I thought if I used the word “fun” a lot, it might help to sell it to both of us.
He needed his nails cut, since we had been traveling for almost two weeks. “Should we get our nails done together?”
He’s got to be the only 3 year old boy who would choose a mani-pedi with his mom over a trip to a kid’s museum.
A few weeks ago, I had taken Laszlo for his first mani-pedi, in Los Angeles. I was going to get my nails done before our trip and he said he wanted to come with me. I assumed he would probably lose patience after only a few minutes. He surprised me by sitting patiently through the whole thing and he even let his nail polish dry. I think he liked acting like a grown up and he liked all women there cooing over how cute he was.
I was nervous about dropping him off at preschool the next day. I didn’t know how a boy having his nails painted would go over with the other kids. So I pointed it out to the teacher and asked her to keep an eye out for anyone making fun of him. She said she doubted it would be a problem since Laszlo was hardly the first boy to show up in nail polish. Only in L.A., I guess. Or NYC, I’m sure.
Hopefully, it will still be cool for boys to get mani-pedi’s when they’re a little older than preschool age in L.A. I’m having a great time doing girly things with my truck-loving little boy. But I realize that Laszlo will probably only enjoy participating in these activities with me for a couple of more years at best. Maybe I should start thinking about adopting a girl. We could send her away to boarding school for the teenage years.
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