The other day I was sitting in the park with James, 3, when I picked a dandelion and handed it to him as a present. “No way, Mummy,” he said, pushing away my gift. “Flowers are pretty and I’m a boy.”
And I thought: That’s it. I’m signing him up for ballet.
I’m going to turn the little alphabet belcher into a proud princess whether he likes it or not.
Imagine growing up with a mother who despises you for being a normal boy.