Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 30747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
“That’s a nice doll you have,” I smiled, and Andy’s eyes snapped to mine again. They had looked away when he retrieved his toy, and now they were wide and surprised. “Does she have a name?”
“I just call her Barbie,” he answered after a moment.
"Does she have lots of friends?" Andy's eyes sank to his lap again as he shook his head. I wasn't surprised; if his brother had a problem with Andy's toy, I understood why he wouldn't have many. "Well, I bet you're a very good friend." A tiny smile tugged at his lips. "Does Barbie help you feel better when you're scared or lonely?"
“When I feel that way, I think about her, and I think she’d help me feel better, but…I don’t get to play with her very much.”
I knew from Joey that Andy’s brother disapproved, but I hoped that my mate felt comfortable telling me himself when I asked, “Why is that?”
His eyes grew sad as he replied, “My brother told me that I was an adult and should act like it; that it was embarrassing for me to want to play with toys, and that I was a disgrace.” Once again, my core bubbled with anger, but I tried to remain stoic for my poor mate, who was already frightened enough. “But Joey explained to me that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to play; that some people need it, and that it’s part of who we are. He told me all about littles and…and I think I’m one too.”
A flurry of emotions tumbled within me. I was saddened that Andy had spent so much of his life not understanding his own needs, and actually believing that there was something wrong with him. But I was also proud of him for accepting and announcing those needs. And, I was grateful to Joey for helping my boy understand so much of himself. I turned to him and bowed my head in thanks before looking at Andy once more.
“I’m glad you have someone to help you,” I told him with a smile. “Joey sounds like a very good friend.”
“He is,” Andy replied with a heart-stopping grin. But it soon faded, and Andy chewed on his lip once more. Before I could ask what was bothering him, he began, “But I don’t think about playing with boys’ toys. I want to play with dolls and tea sets. Is that wrong? Does it make me a sissy?”
That was undoubtedly a name his brother had called him, and it had left its mark on my poor boy. I grabbed a stool and sat in front of Andy so that we were at eye-level, and he could see the seriousness of our conversation. I took his hand, and my sweet mate didn’t pull away, but squeezed my fingers.
“Andy, I don’t believe there is such a thing as boys’ toys or girls’ toys; I think the whole point of toys is to cheer people up and make them happy. Who cares what particular toy makes you happy? There’s no rules to what a person can or can’t like. Do you know what happens when young boys play with dolls?”
He shook his head and I continued, “They learn how to treat other people, and how to be gentle and caring with babies. They learn empathy, and it can help them become loving fathers. I don’t see anything wrong with that, do you?” His eyes were wide as he shook his head again, and I smiled at his sweet innocence.
I could tell by the way his hand tightened on mine that he was thinking about something, and I gave him space to find his words. When he did, he leaned in closer to me and asked, “What if it’s not just toys that I like?”
I traced my thumb across his knuckles to soothe him as I answered, “All littles have different needs; some like baths or snuggles-” I stopped talking when he nodded his head.
“Joey told me that too. What I meant was-” he paused and shot a quick look at his friend before leaning in closer. My heart warmed at the action; Andy was growing more comfortable with me by the moment, and felt secure in sharing a secret. In a whisper (that I knew Joey could hear), he asked me, “What if I like other…girls’ things?”
My heart pounded as I whispered back, “Like what?”
“Like…when I’m at the store, I see nail polish and I think it’s so pretty. Or I find glittery shirts and I wonder what they’d feel like on my skin. I sniff perfume and think that it would be so nice to smell like flowers or candy all day.” His grip tightened on me when he asked, “Are there other littles who like that stuff too?” He was still learning about himself, but he was open with what he liked, and I could not be prouder of him.