He sleeps in a room painted with yellow (or "golden") and sparkle paints. His nightlights are a pink lava lamp with gold glitter and a rainbow projector across his ceiling. The blanket that keeps him warm boldly carries all the colors of the rainbow, and he repeats them with a Rain Man-like vigor like he does everything else in his favorite color: "Red-orange-yellow-green-blue-purple!"
Like every night before last night, I snuggled my son to sleep last night, waiting until his breathing deepened and his muscles twitched slightly as they relaxed before getting up. Like every night before last night, I brushed his hair back from his face, marveled at his eyelashes and his sweet pink cheeks, and kissed his forehead before slowly retreating and closing the door behind me.
But unlike every night before, it was the last night he would be with me as a preschooler. Next Tuesday, he starts Kindergarten at a new school.
And I'm admittedly scared shitless.
It's not the hours spent away from him; I work a 9-to-5 and he spends a majority of his day in a classroom setting, anyway, so aside from the teary-eyed proclamations of "my baby boy is growing up so fast!" as his dad and I guide him to his classroom, there really won't be a difference in time spent away from him.
But my son is... unique. Delightfully and beautifully and wondrously so, but not necessarily "societally acceptably" so.
In pretty much every case where it literally harms not a single other soul, whatever is acceptable by society's standards can fuck right off. To this point, my husband (Tycho's stepdad) and I have lived this for both our sons: They're entirely their own unique individuals, and that means doing things that may be atypical of boys in general, much less their age.
I've also had numerous discussions with my son's preschool about toning down the gender-specific talk, especially since Tycho loves bucking it all: nail polish, glitter, rainbows (and especially colors like pink and purple), all loved by my son and all of which have been conversations with teachers about how they approach it with him and his peers. It's taken a couple years, but now none of these are designated "girl things." They're things everyone can enjoy.
This year, we're starting a new school with new teachers and peers and community, and I feel like we're about to start all over again. Add to that the stress that comes with knowing the older kids get, the more ruthless they become; I've managed to talk down preschoolers who insist that nail polish is "for girls" by simply saying Tycho likes it and so does his stepdaddy, and there's no rule that anything is only "for girls," but I know the older he gets, the less likely I am to convince his classmates... or, worse (and sometime more irritatingly stubbornly), their parents.
No doubt Tycho will walk confidently into his new school, adorned with his bold rainbow backpack and shiny rainbow shoes and nails likely painted a colorful gradient, with a swagger only a Kindergartner who was top dog of his entire daycare could possess. And I'll be right behind him every step of the way, ready to ward off naysayers and welcome with open arms the chance to talk about gender nonconformity and enjoying everything for all its beauty, not for society's gender specificity.
I just hope no one dulls his sparkle.
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