The thing I want most for my kids

sexual ethics and nursery rhymes

I’m sitting on my paradoxical porch, lovingly called Loud Balcony. There are normal porch things out here. Rusty chairs that have seen better days. Children’s toys covered in pollen. A trash can. A box of soil where two tomato plants once grew. A lovely crepe myrtle who, though she’s always dropping pieces of herself onto the sidewalk—her blossoms, her berries, her bark, and now her leaves—is beautiful all the same. Birdsong.

There are also things that feel unporchy. The low hum of four AC units. The whoosh of cars on the highway, rushing to school and work and Target. The rumble of cars leaving the complex—crunch, squeal, thump. The roar of planes taking off. The screams of children—are they hurt, are they playing, are they loved?

I’m out here on Loud Balcony because even in the middle of this clash of worlds, there’s nothing better than writing outdoors the morning after a rain.

My youngest has three (four?) teeth coming in, and when you’re little and your mouth hurts, sometimes you just need to watch YouTube videos of grown adults singing nursery rhymes. A few days ago we were cocooned together, letting the music of Ms. Rachel and her Songs For Littles melt our brains, when our mindless rocking was interrupted.

“Scuse me mom?” said Truitt. (I never taught him to begin sentences with “excuse me” but I hope he never grows out of it.) “Is that person a boy or a girl?”

I blinked up at the TV. The person he was pointing to is a regular among the Songs For Littles cast. They play guitar, sing about emotions to familiar nursery rhyme tunes, and have a kind smile. They also have some facial piercings and a skater-dude style.

“Well…” I began, trying to will back to my mind Laurie Krieg’s instagram post about a similar conversation with her kids. (I just spent half and hour searching for it to no avail.) “I don’t know for sure, pal. To me it looks like God gave them a girl body.”

“I think they are a boy AND a girl,” said Truitt, attempting to balance on one foot.