Tonight was my turn to drive car pool. We drive with the same “older” girl whose father drives the convertible red Cadillac. When we went to pick her up, she wasn’t quite ready – she needed to find her shoes, comb her hair, grab a car snack, pick a jacket, track down her book. Her Dad was apologizing that she wasn’t ready.
I patted my son on the back, and said, “Get used to it, honey – it’s just the beginning of you waiting for women.” To the girl, I added, “Take your time. They’ll always wait.”
She’s a lively, lovely girl – she should never apologize for the time it takes to get ready. Should she get ready earlier? Maybe. Does she have the privilege of making boys/men wait? Probably. Is it right? Who knows. She makes my son smile and laugh, she uses her ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s, talks directly to my son as if he’s her equal, and the truth is he’s not. He’s a year and grade-level behind her, and the gap between the normative maturity level of 4th grade boys and the chatty, social, sophisticated girls of 5th grade is of dog-year proportions. She has her own cell phone and texts her friends, has stories to share from dance class, openly passes along the wisdom of having braces and bombing an impromptu math quiz. My son is trying to memorize jokes and riddles just to have something new to bring to the conversation. Tonight, she told an elaborate new joke, and my son interrupted twice by twirling a Halloween lollipop until she was distracted.
She brings things to him, draws him out, appreciates him, even tells him of things he can do that she hasn’t mastered yet; he offers her a short span of time where she doesn’t have to prove herself, do anything different, or be anything other shan she is, since he likes her just fine as she is, and it doesn’t faze him at all to stand in the hallway a few extra moments until she’s ready. It’s a fair deal, as far as I can see. No one’s oppressed, no one’s judged. Boys and girls – men and women – we will never bring the same thing to the table in a relationship. We aren’t equal, and perhaps we don’t need to be. All I know is that these two kids are very, very happy with their unbalanced, unequal, fully equitable relationship.