C.J. and I were at the park on a sunny summer day when we ran into a girl from his kindergarten class and her mother. As the kids played, the mom and I got to talking about our respective summer plans and made small talk. I’m not very good at small talk.
After awhile, she touched on the subject of C.J. being different and liking girl stuff. She had volunteered in his classroom throughout kindergarten and had seen him gravitate toward pink and purple, be the only boy to play house, carry a Monster High lunchbox and draw himself as a girl.
Because I work, I only volunteered in C.J.’s class once last year. His dad did it a handful of times. I often wondered what the moms who volunteered on a weekly basis thought of my son. There were at least three of them who were in the class…
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