Sometimes the perfect thing happens
It's not uncommon for there to be grownups at our bus stop 15 minutes or half an hour after the bus has come and gone. We chat. We're chatters. Other folks from the neighborhood drive by and yell "Get a job!" from their car windows. A while back, there were three of us left chatting after the bus came. Our were out behind our house, playing whatever it is that play. I got into it on the topic of "the homosexual agenda in public schools" with my neighbor, we'll call him Marcos. Marcos is no hater, but he has somewhat more traditional ideas than I do. He was concerned that his son not be exposed to the idea of same-sex couples in school, lest he catch The Gay. The details of the conversation aren't important. What's important is that we'd just about reached the veins-popping out, not-funny-anymore, standing-too-close, spitting-our-consonants portion of the discussion. Another neighbor, we'll call her Esmerelda, clearly wanted to go home, but didn't want to leave Marcos and me unattended, lest we decide to harm each other. She kept saying conciliatory things designed to defuse the situation. The situation resisted defusing. It was all very tense.
Just when it looked like Marcos and I weren't going to be friends anymore, Marcos's 7-year-old son, we'll call him Anatoly, comes tearing toward us from the side of the house. We paused in our vein bulging and consonant spitting. Suddenly, Anatoly is running full-speed circles around us, yelling "I'M A PRETTY PRINCESS! I'M A PRETTY PRINCESS!" over and over at the top of his lungs. He did five laps or so of this, and then went steaming full speed back toward the back yard. My older daughter, Sophie, could be seen slinking off around the corner of the house with a big sly grin on her face. I swear I didn't put her up to whatever mind-control she performed on the boy. She just does it naturally. Like her mother.
Well, needless to say, hilarity ensued. I pointed out that clearly Anatoly had already caught The Gay, so Marcos didn't need to worry about the homosexual agenda in schools any more, and Marcos pointed out that my daughter is some sort of evil scientist with a hypno-ray, so I probably had bigger problems than he had. Good times...
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