Raising Feminist Boys: Maybe I’m Doing it Wrong
So I was in the car after picking up both boys from school the other day, and we had this conversation:
Fozzie (age 4): When I grow up, I’m going to build a laser gate.
Me: Awesome, buddy. Like the ones on Star Wars?
Skywalker (age 6): Like the ones where they kept Obi-Wan prisoner, right? Those don’t exist in real life. Do they?
Me: I don’t think so. But that just means Fozzie gets to invent them.
Fozzie: Yep. I’m going to invent them.
Skywalker: Wouldn’t it be cool if we invented them together? Me, Fozzie and Daddy?
Me: What about Mommy? I can help invent, too.
Skywalker [without missing a beat]: So, Mommy, I was thinking. Since you love writing books so much, after we invent the laser gate, you can write the instruction manual about how to use the laser gate.
Fozzie: Yeah. I would not want to do that part.
Skywalker: Me either.
*Sigh.* At least I know when my kids take over the world later, I’ll have a cushy job as a technical writer…
“Thanks, Lord Vader, for creating those awesome laser gates. And we really appreciate the easy-to-read technical manual.”
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