Fellow Queens,

 

First of all a Memorial Day THANK YOU to all our Queens who are serving our country.  I have heard from many Queens who have sons, husbands and other family in the military.  Bless them all.

Well Queens, this week I traveled to the capital of Girl Town. 

 

Prince Tim dragged me to watch “An Evening at the Ballet’ because he is hot for some ballet bella. I can now report that there is not a pair of ballet tights to be found in a hundred mile radius.

 

He so owes me.

 

As the lights go down I remind him that there won’t be any music he recognizes from his years of watching Bugs Bunny. The program starts with the tiny dancers. These cute girls looked like little bundles of pink fluff, tippy toeing back and forth as if they are looking for the potty. They staggered around like drunken frat boys and most of their moves looked like jumping jacks; though I can say that I have mimicked their high jump steps when I find a bug in the kitchen.  

 

I really loved watching them frantically glancing at each other to figure out what came next. Of course my 6 year old does the same thing, “I put on my underwear and then…then… oh yeah, my pants. That’s what Matthew’s doing.”

 

When the number was over I looked over at Tim and said, “That was adorable.” “Gosh Mom! You’re so harsh, they’re only 4! I can’t believe you said they were horrible.” “Adorable dear, adorable.” “Oh.”

 

In the next number the lone boy made his appearance. He was resplendent in his white tights and blue satin top. Prince Tim leans over and says, “Now that nine year old has some cohunes.” The future Baryshnikov got all the solos and attention. Hey, 1 boy + 35 girls = smart boy. He must have had Pixie Stix for breakfast to help him jump that high. He didn’t make an appearance at curtain call, I assumed he had a baseball game to play.

 

My mind started to wander. How can organized dance become a more popular activity for our boys. Yeah, yeah, there is always The Nutcracker, but come on, they lured those boys onstage with the promise of rifles. Our guys could choreograph Pirouette Til You Puke. Maybe Dinosaur Stomp, complete with ninja arabesques. Or even an Ode to Balls (pun intended) which would culminate to a grand jete dodgeball competition. We wouldn’t even have to drop big bucks on costumes, for our Corps de Ballet, they could just wear their Spongebob pajamas.

 

The whole experience made me so glad I’m a boy mom. Yes, there are moments when there is a pang of sadness that I will miss out on the special mom/daughter experience. But I figure ‘you get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit.’ And don’t worry my Queens, we will get our daughters. They will be potty trained, out of braces and will adore the fine sons we are raising.

Reign On!

Queen Linda