This blog post is dedicated to all you moms of dudes out there. Not that the moms of girls won't get a kick out of laughing at me, but you "boy moms" ... well, you'll have a special appreciation for today's subject matter.
And that subject matter is Easter dresses.
It's Easter dress season.
Y'all know what I'm talking about. Each year around this time, every store that sells clothes - even those farm-supply stores that usually sell only coveralls and thermal underwear - seems to put out some sort of Easter dress display.
I walk into Walmart to buy some grapes and toothpaste and even though neither of those things are located in the children's clothing section, I somehow manage to find myself staring down a rack of little dresses. A sea of white and pink and pastel green, ruffly confections, bows and frills and flounces and flowers.
Then, as if to twist the knife in my heart, there are the shiny patent-leather shoes. The lacy little socks. The matching headbands and hairbows. The ruffly-butted tights.
90% of the time I'm actually glad I don't have a girl. For real. I would rather slick down a stubborn cowlick than fuss with a braid or a ponytail (I have enough trouble doing my own hair, thanks). I prefer Handy Manny over Hannah Montana. And it'd be hard to teach a girl much about being ladylike when I still laugh out loud when someone farts.
But during Easter dress season, I can't help but picture myself holding a shiny, clean, sweet-smelling little girl in a beautiful white satin sleeveless dress with a full skirt (with a little pink rosebud print on the bodice. ...What?? I'm detailed). I trace my fingers lightly along the hems and the ruffles and the ribbons and pretend, for just a few minutes. "Coby's still a baby," I think to myself, the madness momentarily overtaking me, "and he's kind of sporting a mullet that could pass as long girl hair if I put a bow in it ..."
The retailers try to make it up to us testosterone-overloaded moms by putting out a couple of little pastel-hued button-up shirts, maybe a little white suit with a light-blue vest and a few tiny little ties. They're all, "Aww, pity you don't have a girl to fancy up, but here's a small selection of clothing in some remotely girly colors."
Pshaw, retailers. Pshaw.
You know what the real attraction is.
The Easter dresses, that's what. And all the girly accessories to go along with them.
Curtis wouldn't mind if our boys wanted to take dance lessons. He wouldn't bat an eye if they wanted to play with Barbies or baby dolls. He doesn't feel "threatened" that Colin's favorite color is currently pink.
But I think if I put Coby in a dress, even for just this one Easter, he'd have something to say.