Freaky Friday

Twin 1 has decided to be a boy. She says she hates pink and Barbies and wants to wear blue and play with guns. I've said that of course she can be a tomboy, if she wants, and that's fine with me. And in fact it's been quite nice to go shopping for blue and green things for her. Twin 2 is delighted because she has doubled her wardrobe of pink spangly dresses overnight.

However, Twin 1 is adamant that she doesn't want to be a tomboy, she wants to be a real boy (you would have thought that sharing a house with Hubby, Son and their tedious Star Wars obsession would be enough to put any sane person off sharing their gender - must say it makes me glad to be a girl). Girls can become boys, you know, Mummy, she said importantly this morning. Luckily Son put her straight by bursting out laughing and telling her she couldn't possibly become a boy without a willy.

You see, Hubby and I try to answer all the kids' questions honestly and openly, but the problem with being liberal parents is that you find yourself explaining about gender realignment and same-sex marriages in a non-judgmental and matter-of-fact tone and then it comes back to bite you on the bum when your beautiful bundle of four-year-old sugar-and-spice tells you she wants to be a boy.

I'm off to pour myself another whisky and ginger and wonder where Hubby could be as it's already nearly nine o'clock and he texted me at seven to say he was just going to have one more quick drink in the bar and then he'd be home (luckily for him I've decided to go down the non-judgemental route this time, as I bought myself an Yves Saint Laurent lipstick on Amazon last night and I'm feeling a bit guilty about the extravagance - his inability to make it home in time to put the kids to bed is full justification for a ten pound lipstick*, don't you think?)

*Yes, half price!!