Monthly Archives: January 2016


One year ago I wrote a post about our darling little boy and his affinity for certain things that might traditionally be dubbed “girly”, as well as the frequency with which the outside world assigned him the female gender based largely on his luxurious locks. Today I’m content to report that not a bit has changed.

It’s somewhat curious to consider, as much of my experience as a parent has been accepting the rapidity at which change occurs in our children, but I suppose in matters of personality that tends less to be the case. On the strangers mistaking him for a lady side of things, the long locks remain and the statistics persist – a solid 90% rate of failure in identifying him as a boy among those to whom we’re unknown. In regard to taste and style, he still loves all forms of the color pink, dons his sister’s clothing as often as she’ll allow (and even when she doesn’t), and is intensely obsessed with Frozen, or more specifically, Elsa.

Did you know that Frozen was released in November of 2013? That’s more than two years of top of the charts popularity among an audience with the attention span of a goldfish read: unfuckingbelievable lasting power among the youth of America. Side note, I just Googled attention span of a goldfish to confirm I was using the right expression only to learn that a study published by Microsoft Corp (hrm) last year reported that goldfish have a longer attention span than the average American by a margin of one second. Yes, one unfortunate side effect of the mobile age is that we lost an entire four seconds from our average attention span, meaning no longer can we scoff at those little orange ADD suffering swimmers. And then I clicked on a banner ad next to the article boasting Kate Hudson’s athletic wear only to find myself signing up for a site called Fabletics and HOLY SHIT I proved the study! The Internet y’all, amirite?

Look, the point is that kids loved and love and will keep loving Frozen with the passion of a thousand fiery suns, and my 3.5 year old son is one of them, even though oddly enough my 5.5 year old daughter seems to be getting over it, so there’s some field data for you Disney marketing researchers: sexy, introverted ice princesses score well among boys under the age of four. But the most fascinating feature of this Elsa mania is that it manifests itself not in what one might call attraction or crushing, but rather in a desire to actually be her, facilitated by his second iteration of the ice princess dress.

The first was worn to shreds, and so I did what any other mother would do for her baby boy – bought him a new and improved Elsa dress for Christmas. I kid you not friends, he unwrapped that costume and squealed with an earnest surprise I’ve never experienced, exclaiming “It’s so beautiful!!”, a moment I’m kicking myself for not having captured on camera. I believe it to be tied for first place in the best Christmas present competition, vying for position against the motorized lego train because trains are his other true love. He insisted on trying it it on immediately and has worn it at least once a day ever since, twirling fiercely around the house with furrowed brow to show his badassery as Elsa the Queen. He also just wears it to wear it, in the same way I wear house pants and sweatshirts, for quotidian activities like TV watching and breakfast eating.

And that song. Forever that song.  Our dearest Crosby has been singing some portion of Let it Go multiple times a day for longer than I can recall, as I’m sure is the case for millions of other parents out there because Disney absolutely nailed it with that one, and I’ll not lie, it doesn’t suck. He knows nearly all of the words himself at this point, but still enjoys a performance of said song by yours truly which I attribute to the fact that he’s not old enough to realize just how out of tune I am. Among other oft requested bedtime serenades such as Twinkle Twinkle and Marry My Lover, Let it Go ranks high, but for whatever reason, perhaps his passing understanding of the concept of “played out”, he offers a sort of trade when asking me to sing it… “Mama, I’ll play with your hair if you sing Let it Go.” In my head it’s a yes, heck yes, easy peasy, done deal, but I show a little hesitation in my agreement every time. I can’t have him believing he’s figured me out after all! Must maintain mommy control.

2016 brings a fourth birthday for long hair don’t care, pink loving, Elsa obsessed, dress wearing Crosby, along with first time fall soccer and the possibility of a pre-K program at the big kid school. I’ll certainly not rush him through any phase as time moves quickly enough on its own, but a little excited curiosity over observing his developing personality feels totally fine.

Take care lovelies. S.