No Birkenstocks Either!

Guess who's bored on a Monday conference call again?

I'm starting to realize that I was given a daughter because the chances of me raising an aggressive alpha male son are in the high 90's, and I'm not sure the world needs more. I'm much more likely to produce Uday or Kusay Hussein than James Taylor. MJ and I were in the local megamart Saturday, and I saw a most likely very nice father and his most likely very nice son shopping. The little boy, who looked to be around six years old, was wearing blue Crocs. You know, the plastic faux clogs with a strap in the back. What's the strap for; are they training clogs? I was disproportionately offended, and I thought, not if he were my son. Daddy, can I have some Crocs? No son, you're not a bitch. Why wasn't he wearing sneakers? When I was kid -- and I still am -- sneakers were my shoe of choice because I could run fastest in my kicks. When did hauling as much ass as possible as constantly as possible stop being a prepubescent American boy's main focus? When did casual comfort become something a little boy cared about? When did it become okay for American dads to let their sons be little bitches? Dads have certain responsibilities, and the main one is to make sure our children are as confident as possible about who they are. Keep our daughters off the pole and our sons out of the bath house. If my son were gay then he would be gay. He still would not get any Crocs from me. If he wanted to bedazzle his Nike's, well just make sure they catch the light right when you cross the finish line. Crocs just don't scream, "Do your best!", they whine, "My feet hurt. I'm tired", which is fine for nurses, chefs, teachers, and any other professionals who spend their time at work on their feet. They're not supposed to be spending their time wondering if they're faster than their peers; little kids, especially boys, are.