We went out to dinner tonight at El Burro, a Mexican restaurant at the Pruneyard. Darin was sitting next to Sophia, and he accidentally spilled her glass of water on her. She immediately began hollering:
My dress! My beautiful dress!
I. Could. Not. Stop. Laughing.
Darin clamped his lips together tightly as he helped her dry off, but it was tough work as she quite dramatically bemoaned her dress, her bee-yoo-ti-ful dress, over and over.
(She was wearing a cotton sundress. Nothing happened to the dress, or to her, actually—we were sitting outside and it was a warm night.)
A litle while later Darin asked if I was going to make a MDMBD entry. After I figured out what he meant, I said, Oh you betcha.
I used to believe that men and women were the same, that they just happened to land in different bodies.
Now, having two sons, and having close friends raise a daughter, my opinion has changed.
Our friends are casual and fit in the jeans and t-shirt community. No frilly dresses for the mother, natural makeup if any. Initially minimal TV watching, so minimal pop-culture pollution. Nonetheless, the daughter quickly became a barbie fan, my-little-pony fan, and quickly acquired pierced ears.
My two boys like nothing better than banging a board with a hammer. (a task they’ve seldom seen me do.) Punching, karate kicks were all the rage in Kindergarten and first grade as well. And yes, my boys TV viewing was censored.
My conclusion: Boys and Girls *are* different.
Between the ears.