Work That Skirt

Right now my four year old is vamping it up in a mini-skirt. That would be my four-year-old son, and the skirt is actually a dishtowel held together with a chip-clip, but he looks quite fetching. This is because he knows how to accessorize and is working his red carpet moves in such a way that gives Tyra Banks valid concern for her job security.

That’s my boy – he is all that, and some more. Friends ask “Is he gay?” Maybe. “Is he going to be a Metrosexual?” maybe. “Is this just a phase?” … Maybe, but I doubt it.

I have never met anyone who so full-on knew what they wanted and loved since the day they were born.

People also ask me (in concerned tones) “You let him have Hello Kitty sheets?” or “So, you let him wear make up?” These people haven’t met my boy. “Let” doesn’t really come into any equation where he’s concerned.

He is so incredibly charming and adorable and how could anyone deny their sweet, sweet child the things which make them the happiest – especially when your reward is a very loud “Double Te Amo Mommy!!!” and a kiss that makes sailors blush.

That’s not to say that I don’t have fears and doubts. I mostly fear the day when other kids make fun of him and break his little heart. My deepest fear is that he will think he is somehow crazy, weird or becomes ashamed of who he is.

Today, he is – in his own word … Fableous!

There is no one else I know who can look out a window and find the one purple flower in a sea of concrete, find the beautiful butterfly in a grey sky or can almost magically hear the prettiest music or smell the best smells we all would otherwise miss. He is totally switched on. All his senses just vibrate.

The power his convictions hold amazes me. One night at a restaurant, I watched him skip over to his older brother and a group of boys huddled over a video game. He came back and asked me to get him his Cinderella make-up kit from the car and trotted right back over to the circle of boys. These boys had brush cuts and hockey jerseys -- and while only 6 or 7 years old -- they looked like a tough crowd.

My boy immediately began demonstrating his products. “I have Cinderella makeup!” he announced. “I have glittery eye-shadow and lip gloss that smells soooo delicious. Here, I’ll show you what I do …” and he proceeded to demonstrate the makeup on himself with all the conviction and zeal of a Ron Popeil Veg-O-Matic informercial.

Across the room, I winced … waiting for the older boys to say something mean or sarcastic. They didn’t. They stood there completely dumbfounded by the hurricane. Finally one of them turned to my older son and asked “Does he have a lot of Barbie stuff?”

My eldest replied “Oh yeah! He loves Barbie stuff – he has a ton.” With no invitation or opening to snicker or deride, the boys just shrugged & said “Cool” and went back to what they were doing.

My little guy skipped back to the table incredibly pleased with his demonstration and had some pizza.

There’s a lot I could learn from this kid. Its amazing the sphere of protection we have when we have the courage of our convictions. No can really pierce your armor when you are passionately committed to what you love most.

I love my boy’s creative little soul and I respect his mojo, which is considerable. I have lived so many years trying to please others or avoid their derision. “Would it be all right with you if I was just a little creative or different?… I’ll do it over here – you won’t notice it at all …”

Not my youngest – He is full out 200% himself at all times. I only hope I grow up to be more like him.

Work that skirt!