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Friday, Feb. 23, 2007 | My daughter won’t be old enough to date for at least another 12 years, but I am already getting a hint of her taste in men.
And it’s not a guy like me. Or is it?
My wife tells me that Alexandra is sweet on a boy at her preschool who, for all intents and purposes, is a “bad boy.”
I’ll call him “Rake,” and let me reiterate that when I use the term “bad boy,” I don’t mean that he’s shoplifting Wiggles CDs from Borders or stealing Thomas the Train DVDs from the SUVs in the preschool parking lot.
Still, sources tell me that he does have an evil grin and a wild streak and runs around like a banshee at times. He also likes getting muddy.
He’s a rebel and, naturally, he’s the guy who is attracting my daughter’s attention.
Everyday before preschool, Alex plans what she’s going to say.
“I’m going to show Rake my booboo.”
When she gets to preschool:
Later, if I ask her how her day was, she will complain if Rake didn’t sit next to her.
This has me a little worried.
I was hoping that Alex would be attracted to the little boy who plays with the abacus (he’ll be an accountant for sure), or maybe that left-handed kid who can throw real well (maybe he’ll be a major leaguer).
I definitely don’t want her near any boy who wants to play doctor.
I realize that my daughter is merely having a crush, and the odds that she will walk down the aisle with Rake are slim, but I can’t help but thinking whether her attraction towards bad boys is biological.
If it’s Rake today, will it be Kevin Federline or Howard K. Stern tomorrow?
To be fair, Rake may be the preschool rebel, but he’s also the only boy in Alex’s class who plays dress-up.
That’s a good sign. It means he’s willing to break through societal norms and do what he feels is right. You have to admire that. At least I do.
I have no doubt that once Alex is of courting age, I will be nervous as heck. At some point, she is going to date a guy who will probably use the same tricks I used (“That’s a very nice dress you’re wearing, Mrs. Cleaver”) when I was a randy teenager.
At that point, I can either try to steer her away from that cad, and risk making him even more attractive, or I say nothing and give tacit acceptance.
But holding my peace on anything is difficult, especially when it concerns my daughter.
I hope that if my daughter is into rebels, it will be the intelligent type who knows why he is rebelling and what he rebelling against — think Jack Kerouac — and not just some kid who thinks wearing a Ramones T-shirt is cutting-edge.
On the other hand, I think I will be more suspicious of anyone who dates my daughter who isn’t a rebel. I’d feel more comfortable with her dating Fonzie than Richie Cunningham. It’s those so-called good kids that end up as white collar criminals. The thugs like Fonzie just rip off cars.
As for Owen, who just turned 11 months old, I don’t know if he will be attracted to wild girls or not, but, based on his reaction to his mother, it’s safe to say he’s a breast man.