[Ed. – Someday they’ll make someone a wonderful wife.]
“No more pedicures,” I told my sons.
“Whyyy?” they whined.
“It’s not summer anymore,” I lied.
I have two boys, 7 and 10, who are addicted to pedicures.
They love the nail salon’s Captain Picard command bridge chairs with digital massage controls. And the bubbly blue water. And all the women at the salon who dote on them and tickle their little Barney Rubble feet. And they love the colors of the nail polish, which they’ve renamed Bionicle Green, Ravens Purple or Hot Wheels Orange.
But I’m tired. Tired of confronting what a binary, gender-constricted society we live in. Tired of people telling them, “Boys don’t do that.” Tired of the judgment.
This all started in the summer, when we were headed to a wedding. I needed my toes done and had no one to care for the boys. So I took them with me to the nail salon, and they asked if they could sit in the big chairs, too.