Growing up, my brother and I didn’t have the best of relationships. He was the typical pesky little brother and I was a total bitch. The moments when we actually got along were incredibly few and far between. Most times, they involved me bossing him around and him relishing the attention that I was briefly giving him. I recall dressing him up in my clothes and parading him along the main street we lived on, complete with jelly bracelets and lipstick. He didn’t even flinch. (And, no, he is neither gay nor a cross dresser. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
There was a brief period where we played teacher and student. We ripped apart every Highlights and National Geographic we owned and glued them on the walls of the basement, transforming it into a classroom. We knew what we were doing was wrong, but it was fun. And we were in it together. We figured we’d deal with the consequences later, and it was totally worth it. To our surprise, there were no consequences. Our parents were so thrilled to have us playing together, that I think we could have done just about anything.
Unlike my brother and I, Lily and Ben play happily together for hours. They play zoo and safari and post office. They tell each other stories and have dance parties. Last night, they were quieter than usual. After about an hour, they came down, giddy with excitement. We’ve been having so much fun, Lily squealed. Come see what we did!
And there it was. All of their artwork lining the stairs. Tape, broken off craft pieces and remnants of chalk littered the floor. It’s a classroom, Ben chimed in. Isn’t it so cool?
And it was.
I’m fully expecting the cross dressing to start shortly. And there won’t be anything wrong with it.