(I have two children separated by two years and 10 days. We used to have a joint birthday party when they were kids, on the Saturday between their birthdays. In ’93, Daughter was eight and Son was six. When we started planning the party the kids asked for “a Disney Princess party.” Son was, I think, more excited than his sister, so we said yes. When we went to the costume store we started looking at the Prince costumes for Son while Daughter immediately latched on to Ariel because she has red hair, just like her. It was here that a store employee approaches us.)
Employee: “How can I help you?”
Me: “We’re doing a Disney birthday party for my kids.”
Son: “Disney Princess.”
Me: “So we were looking for a Prince costume.”
Son: “No, I don’t want to be a Prince.”
Me & Employee: “What?”
Son: “It’s a Princess party. I don’t want to be a Prince.”
Me: “[Son], what do you want to be then?”
Son: “Belle! She’s the most prettiest.”
Employee: “He can’t be Belle.”
Me: “Hold on. If he wants to be Belle, he can be.”
Employee: “What is wrong with you, dressing your son up like a girl? You probably wanted another daughter, didn’t you?”
(By the time the manager arrived my son was in tears sobbing, “It’s my birthday!” and the employee was yelling at me that I was trying to turn my son gay by forcing him to dress like a Princess. In the end my son got to be Belle. He has a six-year-old daughter of his own now, who has asked for a Disney Princess party for her birthday, which prompted Son to remember this incident and call me to reminisce.)
