On the days I pick my son up from kindergarten, we come home through the neighborhood. There are a lot of very nice, roomy houses on the school side of our neighborhood. The homes get smaller and plainer as we get closer to ours. When there is nothing left to envy about the houses we pass, we know we are home.
What our house surely looks like from the other end of the neighborhood. (Image: Marion Post Wolcott/US Farm Security Administration)
There have been three or four houses for sale along our path since we began taking it. They are all near the school, over on the swanky side of town. We couldn’t afford to upgrade to any of them, but with the addition coming to our family, it is tempting to fantasize about living in a bigger house.
My son always points out each house with a for sale sign in the front yard. We make a game of picking out which property each of us thinks is the nicest. It’s kind of a stupid game, since they are all nicer than people of our ilk can afford. But it passes the time.
One day, on our trip home, I asked the boy, “Would you like to move to a new house?”
“No.”
“Not even a nice, big, fancy one like these?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because the new house might have a girl’s bed in it.”
“A girl’s bed? What does that mean?”
“It might come with a girl’s bed in my bedroom instead of a boy’s bed.”
I’d never thought of that. Who would want to take such a chance? “When you move to a new house, you take your own bed with you,” I explained.
“Oh. That’s a good idea. I should keep my same bed.”
Yesterday was my morning to take him to school. All of his favorite pants and shirts were in the hamper, so we had to make do with whatever was clean. He balked at the two pairs of pants I could find that fit him. Then, when I finally got him to understand that there were no other choices, he complained that the shirt I found went with a different pair of pants. The situation escalated. I yelled at him to just put something on before we were late. He whined and got all pouty about having to wear such unappealing clothes.
All his other clothes were dirty. (Image: Dorthea Lange/US Farm Security Administration)
And there I was arguing fashion with my five-year-old son. I’d never imagined a scenario that would lead me to this result.
It’s a good thing I don’t have any money to buy a new house. There was an hour yesterday morning when I might have shopped for one that came with a girl’s bed.
That knee-jerk reaction faded fast. It soon occurred to me that he was arguing about his loss of control more than about fashion. Even so, he can be into fashion or whatever else he wants. He’ll always be my boy and he’ll always be able to bring his own bed wherever we might go.
Snoozing on the Sofa 
We live in a subdivision that’s 4 distinct communities, as I believe the sign at the opening advertises, and our house is nestled in the “poorest” community if we’re basing wealth on the price of the house alone. The first week there in our fancy new home (fancy to me, it was just built brand new!) my daughter had to be watched after school by a woman who lives in one of the biggest houses. She has been unimpressed with our perfectly fine, new house ever since.
I don’t know that I ever saw that the new addition was verified, so congrats on that! Do you know what you’re having and when and all that? I’ll peruse some missed blog posts for answers.
My son has always been satisfied with our house because it was the only one he was sure had a boy’s bed in it. Now that he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore, we’ll see if he still wants to live with us.
The new arrival will be here in the spring. The sex will be revealed in an upcoming post.
Scott, I had to read this post twice and then try to find the announcement blog post that I had obviously missed. I’m so happy for all four of you. Blessings all around.
BTW – Who needs all that stuff when you’ve already got the best there is?
Thanks so much, Sandy. We don’t really need the all those nice things. I discovered that a long time ago. But it would be nice to have a little more space.
Always fun to hear a kids view on life and so refreshing.
They always have a very sensible perspective, don’t they?
I think nothing will feel like home as much as the house you grew up in. At least, that’s been my experience. Should you ever move (on account of that third bun being in the over for instance), let’s hope your son can keep his boy bed. It sounds like that’s home to him;)
Great post! I was touched by it (coming from a guy who cried when Jack died in Titanic, so I’ll leave it up to you to decide if that means something (just gave you yet another reason not to watch that movie, didn’t I?))
Yeah, you’ve pretty much stamped out any little dying ember of a chance that movie had with me, and I thank you for it.
You’re very welcome! And trust me, you don’t wanna sit through three hours of James Cameron’s ego, only to hear Celine Dion sing…
No. I do not.
Does the little guy realize that you and your wife may be currently plotting to produce a little girl into his life? One that will undoubtedly demand her own girly bed at some point? 🙂
As long as he doesn’t have to sleep in it and it’s not in his room, he’ll be fine with that.
Dear Snoozing…I love your blog and look forward to every post (my personal fave is “Boob on Fire”). And now that you know I’m a true fan with no hidden agenda, I hope it’s appropriate blog etiquette for me to share my “Preschooler’s Guide to Fashion” with you…inspired by the countless fashion battles I have fought and lost with my little ones over the years!
http://sarahsfiles.wordpress.com/2013/08/04/a-pre-schoolers-guide-to-fashion/
Funny list. Kids make it all seem so simple, don’t they?
They certainly do! Thanks for reading!
Having put up with a 13 year old changes all fundamentals of what boys should be. It’s suddenly about “Dad, I can’t wear this? What would the girls say.” I’m freakin’ out here!!!
Maybe he should ask the girls, since they clearly have more influence than Dad does.
Yes they do. It reminds me of a handsome young man who one day strolled around in his best dressed t-shirt, trying to impress that one specific girl. Shit, that’s me…