Whenever I need to escape the insanity that is Brittana, Naya-drama, and the all around Glee ridiculousness I hide out in the Pezberry tag. Where all is peaceful and everyone lives in their happy little fantasy bubbles.
If you were offended and/or horrified by last nights episode of glee please follow this link and report it to GLAAD.
I went to bed last night, hoping that perhaps I’d feel better in the morning. Notwithstanding how entertaining Baroness Orczy’s The Scarlet Pimpernel, the novel I read to wind down, is, I did not wake up feeling any better about last night’s episode of Glee, or the way it handled one of the…
My Brittana duet of choice: ‘Ground Control to Major Tom’
Brittany is Major Tom, Santana is ground control because she keeps her tethered to this world.
Santana’s reaction to Breadstix delivering. (First GIF not mine, credit to the maker.)
OMG LOLOL GENIUS POST
T E A R S
“Mommy, they are just like me.”
My oldest son is six years old and in love for the first time. He is in love with Blaine from Glee.
For those who don’t know Blaine is a boy…a gay boy, the boyfriend of one of the main characters, Kurt.
This isn’t a ‘he thinks Blaine is really cool’ kind of love. It is a mooning at a picture of Blaine’s face for a half hour followed by a wistful “He’s so pretty” kind of love.
He loves the episode where two boys kiss. My son will call people in from other parts of the house to make sure they don’t miss his ‘favorite part.’ He’s been known to rewind it and watch it over again…and force other to, as well, if he doesn’t think people have been paying enough attention.
This infatuation doesn’t bother me or his father. We live in a very hip-liberal neighborhood, many of our friends are gay, and idea of having a gay son isn’t something that bothers either of us. Our son is going to be who he is, and it is our job to love him. End of story.
He is also six. Six year olds get obsessed with all kinds of things. This might not mean anything at all. We always joke that he’s either gay, or we have the best blackmail material in the history of mankind when he’s a 16 year old straight boy. (Take that naked bath time pictures!)
Then the other day we were traveling across the state listening to the Warblers album (of course), and in the middle of Candles, my son pipes up from the back seat.
“Mommy, Kurt and Blaine are boyfriends.”
“Yes, they are,” I affirm.
“They don’t like kissing girls. They just kiss boys.”
“That’s true.”
“Mommy, they are just like me.”
“That’s great, baby. You know I love you no matter what?”
“I know…” I could hear him rolling his eyes at me.
When we got home I recapped this conversation to his Dad, and we stood simply looking into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then we smiled.
“So if at 16 he wants to make a big announcement at the dinner table, we can say ‘You told us when you were six. Pass the carrots’ and he’ll be disappointed we stole his big dramatic moment,” my husband says with a laugh and hugs me.
Only time will tell if my son is gay, but if he is I am glad he’s mine. I am glad he has been born into our family. A family full of people who will love and accept him. People who will never want him to change. With parents who will look forward to dancing at his wedding.
And I have to admit, Blaine would be a really cute son-in-law.
