Today was Crazy Hair day at Henry's school. In preparation, I had a can of glitter hairspray at the ready. It wasn't until I had actually sprayed his hair that I realized that the spray wasn't red at all. It was bright pink. In the interest of full disclosure I should mention that the can itself is unmistakably pink. And it has "Hello, Kitty" on it. But in my defense, it did come in different colors and the inside cap which showed the color in the can looked red...ish.

I said to Henry, "Hmm. I guess its not red. Its a little bit more pink."

He shrugged and said, "I like red better."

We finished spraying and he merrily went on to school. I imagine that it won't be very long before a situation like that will constitute an emergency requiring the intervention of FEMA ("In other news, disaster was averted when FEMA air-dropped a bottle of clarifying shampoo to a second-grader whose careless mother sprayed his hair with electric pink glitter. Authorities are not saying if charges will be filed against the obviously incompetent mother but they are saying that the public shouldn't let this get in the way of talking about her behind her back so long as they preface everything they say with, 'Not to judge, but...'")

It made me recall a recent conversation with another mom. I was recounting to her a funny story that Eleanor had told that ended with Eleanor and this woman's son being in competition for a pair of earrings. While I was laughing about it she stepped back and demanded that I tell her, "What would my SON want with a pair of earrings?"

I'm not sure how to signify in writing that noise you use to indicate that a needle has just been taken off of a record hastily and without caution, bringing an abrupt end to the music, but those of you over 30 should know the sound.

"Uhhhh," I stammered as she glared at me, "Maybe he thinks it would be cool to have an earring? Or you know what, maybe I just got the story wrong. Or maybe Eleanor misunderstood. That's probably it. Heh-heh. You know how it is with kids. They're so crazy. Whoooooo! Those crazy kids. Well, I think my water just broke. See ya later!"

I guess some people are more sensitive about their sons displaying anything that has even the faintest soupçon of anything that might traditionally be considered feminine. Not to judge, but, whatever. Do they really think that if Liberace's dad had just spent more time calling his son, "Buckeroo" or "Champ" or if his dad had enrolled him in an after-school Fight Club that that would have changed anything? That Liberace would have taken to playing piano in camouflage fatigues with an M-16 slung menacingly over one shoulder? Or that he would have decorated his instrument with busts of Joe Louis and Rocky Marciano instead of candelabras?

I'm guessing that they wouldn't approve of Rick and I taking pictures of Baby Henry wearing a Carol Channing wig



or dangly earrings.



I'm guessing the dolly I got for Henry would be prime for confiscation. Its too bad. Henry really loves that dolly.

I wanted him to have a dolly so that we would be able to talk to him about babies and caring for them and nurturing them just the same way we were doing with Eleanor. When I handed Henry the baby his eyes lit up.

"You can name him anything you like," I told him gently.

Henry took the dolly into his tiny hands and said in his sweet little voice:

"I'll call him ROCKET! BLAST OFF!" and poor Rocket took his first of many intergalactic flights ending in a face-plant landing. Proving that you can't always change what has already been determined by nature. And that Henry's wife needs to be in charge of naming the children.

The next time I saw the woman whose son wanted earrings, she said that she'd asked him and he really did want the earrings because, as I'd suggested, he thought it would be cool to get an earring. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, "I thought he might have wanted them for me." This confuses me because, isn't this exactly the kind of behavior you don't want if you're a person concerned about these things? I'm just saying.

No matter. As I type, the earrings are safely tucked away in a drawer in Eleanor's room never to know the thrill of a being a prop in an off-off-Broadway production of "Pirates of the Carribean the Musical" and never to enjoy playing a supporting role in a George Michael Halloween costume or whatever fate some worried mother imagined they might have had. But, of course, that decision was never really up to the earrings.

Tomorrow we have the Walk-a-Thon at Eleanor's school. Its an all-day fund raising event that involves watching the kids walk in circles for 8 hours. Its exactly the sort of event that led to the invention of this which also explains why so many of the dads were busy bird watching last year.