Well, it only took him seven-and-a-half years, but it has finally arrived. My eldest son has a boy crush. At least I think it’s a crush. Chick is following suit, but this is really Beau’s story.
Timomatic is a newcomer to MTV and in as much time as it takes him to flip onto his back and spin, he has captured my mini man’s interest.
I don’t mind, he’s a sexy guy, dances well and seems to be a happy chappy, smiling as he gyrates.
I’m grateful. It could have been Beyoncé in her one-piece spandex and black sneakers squealing about love on top … you get where I’m going? Yep, I can still see me pulling down my singlet top to pout out an Olivia Newton-John single one day, it’s not a cool image.
Back to boy crushes. Beau put the dancing on pause and disappeared into his room, only to return dressed in jeans and sneakers and a hat on sideways grinning awkwardly, asking me for help to find his checked shirt. He was blushing.
“Of course sweetheart, let’s look.” I guided his shoulders into the room with my hands. I opened the wardrobe door.
“Here, this is similar to Timomatic’s, that should look cool.” I smiled with an air of irrelevance so he didn’t think I was making a big deal about it. You know, parent play-acting. I really am up for an AFI this year.
Tim and the boys went dancing that afternoon, all dressed the same, all throwing themselves about smiling happily. As long as we parents didn’t sedately spectate, the boys were fine. The minute Dawn and I looked over and commented on how cute they were, they dived onto the couch and blushed.
Rubber bands on your wrists with yellow nail polish, BoyToy belts and white heels, AHA! big hair caked in hairspray blow-dried sky high, Boy George eyeliner — all of this eventually fades or hopefully gets thrown into the back of the cupboard.
It’s the basics that keep coming back when we grow, we emulate the closest to us, those that interest us.
I’m still grateful that Beau leaves out my Clinique Happy after he has used it so I know he still wants to be just like me.
