With the first nice weather for the spring, and a budding toddler who loves to play outside, we took a couple of walks to the playground this weekend. In our sexist town, we were literally the only moms there with our kids. Don’t get me wrong, the playgrounds were packed. But all the other kids were there with their dads.
“But how BAD did you pee your pants? …. Oh, that’s fine. We can stay, then.”
“I SAID YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. BUT YOUR SISTER GOT KICKED IN THE FACE. SO WE HAVE TO GO.”
Most of the dads were engaged and having fun, playing with their kids. We even had a nice chat with the dad of a two year old and a four year old who will eventually be at the same elementary school as Bumby.
I know that Bumby is really lucky to have two moms who love him so much. But for the first time, I was a little sad for him that he won’t also have a dad. Probably I will lose my lesbian-card for saying that, but there it is.
I can’t quite put my finger on why it matters. My wife is amazing at sports. I can fix things around the house. He has a great male role model in his older brother. I logically know there is no reason for him to “need” a dad — we can provide him with all the stereotypically masculine skills he needs, and big brother can instruct him in how to make his penis blow up like a balloon by holding his foreskin shut while he pees (this is a real thing that boys do). I guess I just don’t want him to miss any experience in life, or be left out in any way, and he will be. I wish I could protect him from feeling different, even while I know that being a little different will make him a stronger, happier, better-adjusted person than walking through life with no adversity at all.