I make sure that I see him as often as I could and not miss the most important parts of his young life. He is a good kid, I know that, every parent does when they're dealing with their kids. He may be a bit of a snotty kid but he's really the sweetest, even sweeter than her mother (that part, I admit, I had nothing to do with.) My last visit was like the usual, eating out, buying stuff and doing the same old family thing. We do what we can. It's fun like that.
We tried to bring him to the barber for a cut but he was having none of it. He scolded me and his mum and even the barber for having him try to sit on the chair. He was angry like that, plus, he wanted a bottle of milk and his afternoon nap. He was just furious and teary eyed but still handsome as ever.
It happened to be the last week of the Panagbenga 2013. Session Road was closed for a week and was commissioned to be full of stalls that showcase the different trades and crafts of the modern Filipino. Food was the number one priority for me, though. Nothing beats the variety of food available during the event and be ready for the extra pounds
His mum lined up for an order of Ilocos empanada (which unfortunately was a waste of money, it was an injustice to call it such since the genuine Ilocos empanada is as heavenly as food can get.) She ordered that the little prince be walked around for a while so he wouldn't be irritable or anything and to get him away from the burning heat of the day. That's just what I did, I carried him around like a trophy. I heaved and huffed and the sweat started to show. It was a mess, I was a mess. He was enjoying the sights though he had a scrunched expression on his face, he got that from me. Beams of light peeked through and felt like heat from a nearby oven. I watched my son look on and about and at different things and faces that we passed by.
The pretentious oily mess that posed like empanada was not yet ready so we turned and walked further. We walked past a local office supplies store and my prince started wriggling on and about. He was pointing at something on the display of the store. Of course, I had to stop. Everything for my little boy, of course. He was pointing at the toys on display. I asked him which one he liked and he just said "That one." I pointed to everything at the display until the last one. I figured he wouldn't want that one, but he did. He pointed at the a cheap looking toy set, a cook set.
I told him he wouldn't want that because it was for girls but he insisted on buying it. He was starting to get angry then. I urged him not to get the toy but he really wanted to get it. He was starting to get teary eyed and his cheeks flushed. I carried him back to his mum to ask for the go signal. He was having none of my behavior and attitude towards what he wanted to do. His mum gave the green light and back we went to the store. I gave him a hundred, he held it firmly in his right hand. He knew he was getting that toy set. He just knew it.
I think I was supposed to be angry at that thing. About the fact that my son wanted to play with girly toys. But what he did next taught me more than I could teach him. He was slicing the toy veggies and meat and put it inside the casserole, he was careful to put it on the stove and check the flame level. He was keen and bright like that.
"Daddy, cook. Luto!"
I know I'm an angry man but when it comes to him, I'm just like a neophyte again, undergoing a further initiation into a bigger responsibility and humbling experience. He was angry but patient enough with his dad. It made me think how people make up the constructs inside their heads and try to impose them on their kids and the younger generations. It always had to do with rules and the main prospect of following it, to the letter. The construct of being gay has something to do with toys, colors, dainty things and queer stuff but really, they don't. And people should stop being angry for the wrong reasons.
And as my son taught me, parents shouldn't be always the ones to jump the gun and reinforce the fate they want for their children. They just want to play, they need to play, even if they had to do so with their own choices and preference. He wanted to play with the cook set because he associated it with his mama and papa cooking dinner and yummy snacks for him, not because he was gay or what. And so what if he was? So what if he chooses that path in the future? It isn't a disease that can be cured or a decision that can be swayed with indoctrination and severe enforcement.
He really loves that cook set. I think I'll build him a real kitchen in the future. I'll have my own angry cook. Flushed but with taste.