Why My Son Wears an Effeminate Coat...

My poor eight-month-old son, Johnny, is stuck getting hand-me-downs from his two-year-old sister, Belle, for the rest of his life. “There are worse things,” you might say.

But you’d change your mind if you saw the effeminate pink coat he has been wearing lately. “It’s lavender!” my wife insists.

Uh-huh. And Mango from Saturday Night Live is straight.

Nothing against Mango, but I’d rather not dress my son in a pink beret and long gold gloves. So the other day I tried to buy Johnny a Packers coat and my wife tackled me, saying hysterical things like “he’ll grow out of it fast” and “winter’s almost over.” I said, "We live in Wisconsin. Winter’s never over."

So Johnny suffered the indignation of wearing his Mango coat to his aunt’s birthday party. Maybe that’s why he was incessantly jerking his head back and headbutting me while I held him. (They don’t tell you babies do that in Home Economics Class.)

Apples to Apples
We played this game at the birthday party called Apples to Apples.

It’s all about word association. For example, my niece matched fancy with underpants. My six-year-old nephew needed to match the word juicy, so he selected men. (I think he was thinking of orcs from Lord of the Rings gobbling men.)

Then my 10-year-old nephew matched the word innocent with Britney Spears. Apparently he’s never seen MTV.

Later, after birthday cake, I played a different game with the kids and “promised” the winners a prize—dragon medallions (a promise I was clearly hoping they’d forget). Not only did I stupidly promise them a prize, but I promised something that can’t be purchased at McDonald’s. What was I thinking?

“When do we get our medallions?” my nephew asked excitedly. “You promised!”

“It’s a surprise,” I said. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“You could at least tell us when the surprise will be,” he said.

Later, they wanted to play Apples to Apples again. “Can you go pay a team of people to come play the game with us?” my nephew asked.

“But I have no money,” I said, pulling my pants pockets inside-out. I thought I was so clever.

“Then give them your pants,” my niece said.

“Thanks,” I said. “So you’re saying I should give away the pants off my legs so you can play cards for a half-hour?”

“Yes,” she said, as if it were e=mc2.

Belle decided someone needed to step up the recruitment efforts. “Hey Grandma, you can sit on your bottom and play caaaards.”

I sat down with baby John in my lap to play the game, both of us feeling manly now that his pink coat was safely hung on the wall.

“Hey Daddy,” Belle said. “I like your lipstick.”

“Thanks, Belle,” I said. “But Daddy doesn’t wear lipstick. You must be thinking of Mango.”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding and smiling.