I've always had a secret desire to put Henry in a dress, you know, just to see how cute he'd look. When I found out I was pregnant I knew that I wanted a boy, but after a childhood of dressing baby dolls and Barbie dolls, I couldn't help but want to adorn him with floral patterns and lace. After I discovered his penchant for pink I squashed my fantasy, not because I thought it might lead to a future of cross-dressing, but it seemed best to let Henry make those kinds of choices without any influence from me.
So I swear to you, it was a total accident that I bought little girl tank dresses from American Apparel, instead of little boy tank tops. I realized my mistake as I slipped one over his head and it fell down to his knees. "It's a dress!" Henry yelled excitedly.
He danced around the living room and refused to take it off. I begged him to remove the garment, only because I didn't want him to smear chocolate biscuit all over it before I could return it to the store. "But it's my favorite dress!", he pleaded. "Don't take it". I ended up uttering words I'd hoped to avoid, "dresses are for girls only." And just like when the kids at the park asked Henry why he was naked, (that's another story...) it didn't illicit any shame.
