We had to introduce our boys to weapons recently. I blame the Spice Girls.
Maybe that's a cop-out. But between the joyful moments of raising small kids are hours of unfathomable boredom. I'd purchased Happy Meals® to see if a cheap toy would buy me fifteen minutes of freedom, but the boys were already looking to me for the next activity. And I was getting cranky. I wanted my husband to come home so I could be mad at someone. I would guilt him into feeding and amusing the boys the rest of the night while I retreat to the bedroom to go out of my mind in private.
That's when I remembered the crappy gifts sent by one of their godfathers — a dear man, but with suspect taste. We kept his gifts merely for sentimental reasons.
"Boys," I said. "Would you like to listen to . . . THE SPICE GIRLS?"
I announced it in a way that hinted at great mystery and excitement, like when I ask them if they'd like Slim Pickings for lunch or Magic Shampoo in the bath. They didn't know what the Spice Girls were, but they sure wanted them now.
I found the CD at the bottom of the rack, still in the plastic wrap — perfect! The opening of the cellophane and its glorious crinkling added to the anticipation. It beat thinking up games and pretending to enjoy playing them.
"Want me to CRANK IT UP?"
"Yeah, Mommy!"
I slid the disk into the stereo as Trevor unfolded the CD cover, eyeing the girls in shiny minis and platform sneakers. I figured the boys would find, by the first song, that this is no kids' album, no gift at all. I was already straining to think up the next boredom distraction. But to my surprise, the boys soon were jamming. They danced round and round the couch. I joined them.
We hit repeat every time we finished a good song and danced on the couch with the stuffed animals. The Spice Girls took us all the way to Daddy's arrival home at dinner time.
Daddy (I used to call him David) found us thrilled and exhausted. Trevor sat on the bottom stair and announced, "I know what I want to be for Halloween."
Halloween was a month away, but Daddy, a costume designer, takes requests early so he can sew the costumes from scratch. He's very proud of this, sewing little outfits, then watching them win Best Costume at Phipp's Conservatory.
Daddy bent down by the step. I listened behind him.
"I'll give you a hint," Trevor said. "I want a hat with dots. And . . . " He made a grand, swooping gesture, as if his hands were a huge feather sprouting from the hat. "And really tall shoes."
Daddy's face scrunched as he tried to figure things out.
I got the hint, though.
"How about another clue?" Daddy said.
"Sp . . ."
Still puzzled.
"Spiiiiiiice."
I chimed in. "A Spice Boy?" I looked at my husband. "Godfather Andrew," I said.
Trevor did the same dance we had done earlier. But it looked different this time. Too much GIRL POWER.
My husband actually teaches a class on Make-up at the university. But when he saw how much the boys enjoyed it when I dolled them up one particularly long day, he made a weird face and asked me to call it War Paint. He made the same face now as he pulled me into the kitchen.
"You might not understand this, but can you let me do something?"
"Sure," I said.
"It's about the weapons ban."
"You mean our agreement never to let our boys play with pretend weapons, or I'll stop sleeping with you?"
"I just want a little leeway," he said. "That's all. Please?"
"A little leeway. But be careful you don't become a republican." He knows I'd never sleep with a republican.
Daddy grinned and returned to Trevor, now joined by his brother on the bottom stair.
"You can be a Spice Girl if you want."
"Hooray!"
"Or . . . "
"Or what?"
"You can both be pirates and I'll buy you BIG SWORDS!"
"Swords, Daddy!"
Swords it was. We promised.
Trevor had just one question: "But is it okay if I dress up like a Spice Girl around the house?"
© 2003, All Rights Reserved
Bio:
Susan Henderson is an Associate Editor of the Massachusetts-based print magazine, Night Train. Her work has appeared in Oakland Review's 25th Anniversary Anthology, Zoetrope: All-Story Extra (December 2000 and September 2001), Today's Parent, The Pittsburgh Quarterly, Eyeshot, Alsop Review, Happy, Opium, Carve Magazine, Monkeybicycle, Hobart, The MacGuffin, Zacatecas: A Review of Contemporary Word, Word Riot, Pig Iron Malt, Mid-South Review, Eleven Bulls, Ink Pot, as well as in a number of pamphlets and training manuals used at Pittsburgh Action Against Rape. She is a recipient of an Academy of American Poets award and won an Honorable Mention in the Green Hills Literary Lantern 2003 Fiction Contest as judged by DeWitt Henry.
Artist:
Genia M. Daniels' work can be seen at http://matcmadison.edu/studentlife/yaharajournal/index.html. Genia can be reached at genia02@yahoo.com |
