Oh, DARN IT!

Under the "kids say the darndest things" category.

Recently, my son has been watching his fair share of the Olympics, and in particular, fell in love with womens gymnastics. This is understandable because he, A) takes gymnastics, and B) likes girls. In fact, he'll tell you this frequently. His love of girls has extended to his frequent declaration that he wants to be a girl. When I tell him it's not going to happen - and that he's a wonderful boy who will turn into a wonderful man - he gets all bummed out.

Now, his response is to take the phrase I've learned over recent years to use in frustration - "darn it" - and leverage that to a given situation. Now, I'm not a "darn it" kind of guy. I'm more of a "fuck" and "damn it" kind of guy, but I'm also a good father who's been prepping for the parrot-routine for a couple of years.

So this morning, Zach is watching his morning cartoons as I get ready for work, and playing with the Star Wars figures I pulled out of the closet to share with him earlier this week. Yes, he loves them, but my nostalgia gets kicked into high gear, especially as we play with the out-of-print Creature Cantina my estranged, sometime-to-be-ex wife gave me many years ago in anticipation of the "Phantom Menace's" release. Oh, if only we knew the horrors to come...

Anyway, Zach announces that he doesn't want to go to preschool today, because he wants to "stay at daddy's house and play Star Wars and wear a leotard".

Yes, a leotard.

Zach's been on this leotard kick for the last week, and I found one that Momma wears, and in it he broke into a gigantic smile. Only to follow that up with grumpy sadness that she didn't own a pink one (it's black, incidentally). Now, you're asking yourself - "doesn't he worry that his son is gay?". No, not at all. And if he was gay, that'd be perfectly fine and great. But he's 3, with a well-defined sense of self and inner confidence that prevents any need for him to obsess over pre-determined gender roles. Sure, if he was wearing a leotard to 5th grade gym class, I'd be nervous, but c'mon... The kid's an athletic dynamo, never stops jumping, adores Superheroes and cars, and fart jokes. He also happens to like Strawberry Shortcake and leotards and girls. Bully for him, frankly. If only the rest of us were so unselfconscious and free with ourselves.

Anyway, I told him that A) he had to go to preschool, and B) he can't take his Star Wars figures to preschool, and C) we'll have to wear the leotard another time.

So he spends the whole ride going, "OH DARN IT! I just want to play Star Wars and wear a leotard".

I don't know if I'll ever hear that particular collection of words, in that particular order again. Bless you, Zach...

(I wonder if they make a Star Wars leotard)