My Son is a Burgeoning Drag Queen.

Vacation was heaven – HEAVEN – but now it’s over, and I’m back. Within an hour of being home, my vacation high devolved into Feels Like I Never Left, and now, after a single day, it’s become Feels Like It Never Even Happened, complete with a massive, blow out fight between me and my husband earlier this afternoon in the parking lot of the Natural History Museum. It’s as if Mexico, with its balmy nights and breezy ocean views, was something I dreamed, or possibly experienced in a prior life when I was a Mayan queen and had a battalion of servants to cater to my every whim. But alas, the reality of my current life has now smacked me in the face, and there are some pressing issues at hand. The first is my new book, a story which I am going to save for next week’s post, but I’ll give you a little teaser here and just say that things are Not Going Well. Especially since I’ve “taken a little break” from it, which was supposed to last for one week and somehow has stretched out to just over two months. To be continued…

The other issue to which I need to turn my immediate attention (as I was instructed by my mother-in-law upon my arrival from the airport) is the Davis Problem, also known as, My Son is a Burgeoning Drag Queen. I, for one, don’t really see this as a problem, but rather a simple product of his environment. The kid has an older sister, and because I am a horrible, lazy mother and have cultivated exactly zero male friends for him, his entire socialization has consisted of playdates with four year-old girls who like to dress up like various princesses and/or mermaids and to perform Swan Lake along with Bella Dancerella in nothing but flimsy tutus and pink ballet slippers. So it’s not really such a shocker to me that he likes to run around in a blue Cinderella dress and fairy wings while carrying a magic wand, or that he knows how to arabesque and curtsy like a member of the New York City Ballet.