Didn't I Feed You Yesterday__ A Mother's Guide to Sanity in Stilettos - Laura Bennett [59]
How many times while I’ve expressed my concern over some alarmingly backward behavior in one of my guys has a sympathetic mother said, “Well, you do know that Einstein didn’t speak until he was four?” And how many of these mothers have only girls? Five minutes of observing Larson’s preschool class is all the proof I need that little girls are superior. They complete sentences and play elaborate games of imagination, assigning roles to one another with alacrity. With an innate understanding of exactly what they want, the girls take charge of the room, organizing cubbies and dressing themselves in color-coordinated outfits, complete with shoes they have actually tied themselves. Peik still needs Velcro. Who tied boys’ shoes before that clever invention? Off in a corner, a clutch of boys is calling each other monosyllabic names as they play with a blue train with a face. Have you noticed that girls have the good sense to avoid toys that endlessly go in circles to nowhere? Trust me, I know I’m not dealing with Einstein in any of my boys; I don’t need to be comforted by the not-so-novel idea that a slow starter can end up on the path of genius. Besides, I bet that Einstein had his mother tie his shoes on the way out the door to college and that she was still wiping up the linoleum around the toilet every time he paid her a visit as a grown man.
I’m not the only one puzzled by how boys become men and then men become the masters of the universe. I have yet to meet a single mother on a park bench, a female teacher, or a pediatrician who doesn’t have the same thoughts. It’s only the men who disagree with me and feel the need to support their counterthesis by listing every accomplishment of every male in history. The only possible explanation I can come up with is that in prehistoric times women needed some space to get the real work done without having to worry about the crotch-grabbing spectacle over on the pile of furs. So the women gave men bows and arrows and taught them how to hunt, and eventually when they got tired of shooting their little weapons at animals they shot at other men, and war began, and then men had something to do with their time. The trend stuck. Whatever the case, I love my boys. I find their antics and inabilities amusing and constantly surprising. I just don’t get how they ever lapped girls when the fairer sex had such a clear lead.
“I’m not the outdoorsy type, unless a waiter is following me with a tray of champagne.”
WANDERLUST
“HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT KENYA?” PETER asked me on the phone, asking me out on our second official date.
“I love Kenya!” I said. Of course, I thought he was joking—who gets immunizations to go on a date? But no, he was completely serious. This is why I love New York; where else can you meet a man with the means and the sense of adventure to plan such a killer date?
Peter called the New York offices of Ker & Downey, an old-school safari company, and told them we wanted to take a week-long safari and would like to leave the coming weekend.
“But it’s Tuesday. You want to leave Saturday?” the agent asked in disbelief.
“Or Friday,” Peter replied casually.
“People plan a trip like this a full year in advance. Kenya is in Africa. There are a lot of arrangements to make.”
Peter messengered a check over to prove he was serious, reservations were made, and I found myself in the office of a tropical infectious disease specialist getting vaccinations and malaria pills. The next stop was a whirlwind shopping spree for fabulous khaki cocktail wear. Peter already wears khaki, so his wardrobe was perfect. I mailed my daughter to Texas to stay with