I grade a paper and submit it, looking down the roster for a student who I know will have written something halfway decent. I choose that one and swap tabs, looking for some other distraction.
I sip water, eat salt water taffy. I stand, stretch, look out the window at the trees, empty sidewalk, construction machinery.
My mind wanders and I think about being a kid and something Elliot said. I told him I used to play with dinosaurs and he said girls don’t like dinosaurs. I always saw them as a very neutral toy. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t really think of any specifically girl toys I owned. I liked Legos and Ghostbusters and that Monster Lab where you covered a skeleton in weird green goo that then dissolved in a vat of “chemicals”. I read a lot and I read girl-like books. But I didn’t do Barbies or Strawberry Shortcake or My Little Pony. I did own a pink Skip-it, until it broke. I guess I only really got into actual girl stuff when I became a teenager and started plastering my walls with only the cutest boys: Joe Macintyre from NKOTB, Edward Furlong, John Stamos. I had an extensive collection of Tiger Beat and BOP magazines. In early high school, I moved onto music magazines and anything that had photos of Pearl Jam or Guns and Roses.
Things haven’t changed that much; I still don’t really girly things, though I get pedicures a lot. Though not as often as I’d like.
I painted that for Elliot last week at a place called Firefly pottery. It was fun and he’s gonna flip when he sees it.
I still like dinosaurs and monsters and Matchbox cars. It’s a good thing I had boys.