Does This Baby Make Me Look Straight?: Confessions of a Gay Dad by Dan Bucatinsky Page A
Authors: Dan Bucatinsky
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making pancakes and then balloon animals and who looks like he’s tired and possibly a few pounds heavier than he was yesterday! I’m not actually so shallow as to think the kids don’t love me. Of course they do. One kid inevitably wants one parent over another. And I love Don. And he loves me. But I still can’t help that feeling from childhood, deep within me, of not wanting to be picked last or to be blamed for things I didn’t do.
A while back we took the kids out for pizza. They split a small pie but it was a lot. We packed up Jonah’s extra piece to take home. On our way out of the restaurant we saw a homeless man sitting against a parking sign. Don took the bag with the extra slice and gave it to the man. Jonah had mixed feelings about it, to say the least. But Don turned it into a teaching moment. Last week we happened to be passing the pizza place and Jonah, out of the blue, asked me why I gave his pizza away.
“I didn’t, pal. Remember? Papi gave it to the homeless man,” I explained.
“No! You gave it away, Daddy!” He started to cry.
“Oh, Jonah. I get that you want that pizza now. But it was a nice thing for Papi to do. Papi gave that pizza to the homeless man. Not me. Papi.” I tried to stay cool.
Don laughed. “What can I say? I can do no wrong in his eyes,” he gloated. “It’s called diplomatic immunity!” But I wasn’t about to take the rap for someone else’s crime.
“It was Papi, sweetie. Papi gave it away.”
“No, Daddy. It was you. You gave my pizza to the man!”
“It was not!” I sounded like I too was only four years old.I laughed uncomfortably. Don found it hilarious. Sure. Because he was the one getting away with murder! How did he do it? I tried not to hate my husband for this innate ability to curry favor.
Lately Don’s been offering the kids his iPod Touch to watch movies or TV or to play a game while they’re in his car. I don’t let the kids watch TV in the car because I think they watch enough television, frankly, and I enjoy my time in the car conversing with them, playing music, singing songs, or just listening to them talk to each other. Is my way better? Natch. I get full points for that one. If I could only get them into my car!
Dan: “Don. Tell them they can’t watch in your car so that they don’t throw a fit when I say I’m driving.”
Don: “I’m not doing that. I don’t have the same fear of them watching iPods in the car.”
Dan: “Um, it’s not a fear, actually. It’s called ‘guidance.’ A healthier choice. But you offer any kid on the planet a car made of cookies, gumdrops, iPods, and baby bunnies, and they’ll want that car!”
Don: “So what does that tell you?”
Dan: “Just because they like it more doesn’t mean it’s better for them!”
Don: “And just because they hate it, doesn’t make it the healthier choice.”
Dan: “Hate. Wow. Okay. Fine! You win!”
Don: “Feels better to say it out loud, doesn’t it?”
Are we more competitive with each other because we’re both men? I don’t know. I only have my own experience bywhich to gauge. I know Don grew up willing to throw almost anyone under the bus, even the bus driver, if it ensured him an A+, front seat, top tier, gold star. And where was I? Just as competitive, fighting to rescue that bus driver under the tire, so maybe I’d get singled out as a hero—possibly with a piece about me on the eleven o’clock news.
But I don’t think I was born this way. It was something I learned. As a kid. The way kids pick up things from parents who want them so desperately to feel like winners because the parents so clearly don’t. Like Jonah, I too have an older sister. But here’s the thing: I don’t recall feeling competitive with her as a kid. I mean, we both clearly waged an unconscious war for the attentions of our parents. But it never felt like my goal was to beat her. I was the baby, a full three and a half years younger, so I was able to squeeze some
A while back we took the kids out for pizza. They split a small pie but it was a lot. We packed up Jonah’s extra piece to take home. On our way out of the restaurant we saw a homeless man sitting against a parking sign. Don took the bag with the extra slice and gave it to the man. Jonah had mixed feelings about it, to say the least. But Don turned it into a teaching moment. Last week we happened to be passing the pizza place and Jonah, out of the blue, asked me why I gave his pizza away.
“I didn’t, pal. Remember? Papi gave it to the homeless man,” I explained.
“No! You gave it away, Daddy!” He started to cry.
“Oh, Jonah. I get that you want that pizza now. But it was a nice thing for Papi to do. Papi gave that pizza to the homeless man. Not me. Papi.” I tried to stay cool.
Don laughed. “What can I say? I can do no wrong in his eyes,” he gloated. “It’s called diplomatic immunity!” But I wasn’t about to take the rap for someone else’s crime.
“It was Papi, sweetie. Papi gave it away.”
“No, Daddy. It was you. You gave my pizza to the man!”
“It was not!” I sounded like I too was only four years old.I laughed uncomfortably. Don found it hilarious. Sure. Because he was the one getting away with murder! How did he do it? I tried not to hate my husband for this innate ability to curry favor.
Lately Don’s been offering the kids his iPod Touch to watch movies or TV or to play a game while they’re in his car. I don’t let the kids watch TV in the car because I think they watch enough television, frankly, and I enjoy my time in the car conversing with them, playing music, singing songs, or just listening to them talk to each other. Is my way better? Natch. I get full points for that one. If I could only get them into my car!
Dan: “Don. Tell them they can’t watch in your car so that they don’t throw a fit when I say I’m driving.”
Don: “I’m not doing that. I don’t have the same fear of them watching iPods in the car.”
Dan: “Um, it’s not a fear, actually. It’s called ‘guidance.’ A healthier choice. But you offer any kid on the planet a car made of cookies, gumdrops, iPods, and baby bunnies, and they’ll want that car!”
Don: “So what does that tell you?”
Dan: “Just because they like it more doesn’t mean it’s better for them!”
Don: “And just because they hate it, doesn’t make it the healthier choice.”
Dan: “Hate. Wow. Okay. Fine! You win!”
Don: “Feels better to say it out loud, doesn’t it?”
Are we more competitive with each other because we’re both men? I don’t know. I only have my own experience bywhich to gauge. I know Don grew up willing to throw almost anyone under the bus, even the bus driver, if it ensured him an A+, front seat, top tier, gold star. And where was I? Just as competitive, fighting to rescue that bus driver under the tire, so maybe I’d get singled out as a hero—possibly with a piece about me on the eleven o’clock news.
But I don’t think I was born this way. It was something I learned. As a kid. The way kids pick up things from parents who want them so desperately to feel like winners because the parents so clearly don’t. Like Jonah, I too have an older sister. But here’s the thing: I don’t recall feeling competitive with her as a kid. I mean, we both clearly waged an unconscious war for the attentions of our parents. But it never felt like my goal was to beat her. I was the baby, a full three and a half years younger, so I was able to squeeze some
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