summary: in which cynthia is a supportive parent, and larry is not

tw: toxic masculinity/antiquated gender roles

The next morning, Connor's alarm woke him up at eight in the morning. He threw his pillow at it, before reluctantly sitting up in bed and stretching. What Larry had said last night about 'talking tomorrow' still worried him. He wondered if Larry was angry at him. He didn't think so though, because he hadn't yelled, and Connor hadn't really been scolded either. He'd just seemed surprised, maybe… disappointed? While Connor hadn't seen any boys wear dresses, he didn't think there was anything wrong with wearing one, right?

"Connor! Your omelet is going to get cold if you don't hurry!" Cynthia called from downstairs, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"Coming, mom!" he hollered back. The sooner he got down, the sooner they could have the talk, and the sooner they could get it over and done with. On the happier side, it was a Sunday, which meant not just omelet, but bacon as well, which was his favorite. Even better, Larry had a meeting later in the morning, which meant that they didn't have to go to church, and they could stay home and play.

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he raced down the hallway, almost knocking Zoe over as she came out of her bedroom.

"Hi, Con," she smiled at him, still looking a little sleepy.

"Morning, Zo-Zo," he cheekily ran a hand through her messy hair and she playfully slapped him away.

She stepped closer to him. "Is Daddy still upset about last night?" she whispered in his ear.

He shrugged. "I don't know. But he said he wants to talk about it today, I think."

"Kids, come on!" Cynthia reminded them from the bottom of the stairs. "You can talk over breakfast."

Connor and Zoe slid down the banisters and skipped towards the table where Cynthia and Larry were waiting. Zoe eagerly grabbed a piece of crispy bacon, while Connor sipped his milk uneasily, his gaze darting between his mother and his father. Neither of them said anything at first, and Connor hoped that maybe they'd forgotten. He'd just started on his cheese omelet, however, when Larry cleared his throat.

"Uh, Connor, about last night…"

There it was. Connor's heart sank a little, but he finished his mouthful of omelet and looked up at his dad, who sat on his left. He gave a quick look to his right, but Cynthia was suddenly finding her cup of Earl Grey tea very interesting. Across from him, Zoe was looking at him with a concerned expression, the half-eaten piece of bacon still between her greasy fingers. The air was too tense and Connor shifted in his chair.

Larry sighed, and Connor didn't know if he was in trouble. Why had he worn the dress, he shouldn't have played princess, was it illegal? Could a boy go to jail for wearing a dress, or—

"Connor, I'm not going to scold you," Larry said, noticing his son's stricken expression. "Come here," he patted his knee. Connor slid off his chair and went to sit on his dad's lap. "How old are you now?" Larry asked, reaching for a napkin to wipe off Connor's milk moustache.

"Four and a half!" he grinned.

"You're a big boy now, so one important thing is to be like one, okay?" Larry smiled encouragingly at him. "That also means you can't play princesses, or dress like girls, understand? You've got to be a strong, tough boy! Think you can do that, son?"

Connor frowned. "Yeah, but why can't I wear a dress?"

"You're a boy, you're supposed to be strong, so you can't wear girls' clothes."

"But I'm strong, too!" Zoe huffed. "Yesterday, I lifted the box of dolls from the shelf without help!"

"Yes, honey, I know you're strong too," Larry assured her. "But Connor is a boy, so it's a different kind of strong."

"So I can still play princess when I'm four-and-a-half?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," Larry replied, as Connor returned to his seat, and Cynthia poured some Fruit Loops into his bowl.

.

.

.

After breakfast, Larry left for his business meeting, and Cynthia put away the dishes while the children watched Sesame Street on the television. After the show ended, they went up to their parent's bedroom to look for her.

"Play with us?" Zoe pleaded with her best puppy dog look.

Cynthia put her magazine down. "Sure, what do you want to do?"

"Bubbles?" Connor suggested.

Zoe nodded. "Yeah, bubbles!"

"Okay," Cynthia agreed, following them down to the garage to get the bubble solution, then out to the spacious backyard. The sun was bright, it was a pleasant day in early June, and the lawn was freshly mowed. Connor and Zoe took turns blowing the bubbles and chasing them. Cynthia joined in occasionally, although she was more content just to stand back and watch.

It was Connor's turn to blow the bubbles, and Zoe ran around shrieking in delight as she tried to pop as many as she could.

"Mummy, can I ask something?" Connor asked, standing next to Cynthia as he blew through the dripping bubble wand.

"Fire away, young man," she winked at him.

He winked back, but his expression was still serious. "Is it bad that," he hesitated. "Is it bad that I like dresses?"

Cynthia thought for a while, then shook her head. "No, Con, it's not."

"Then why doesn't Daddy like it?"

Larry came from a conservative family, Cynthia did not. But politics had never come up when they'd first met in college, or even when they started dating. While she knew his family's stance on issues like gay marriage, abortion, and more, Larry himself had said very little about such topics, and when he did, it was never really in a hateful or hurtful way. Yet Cynthia knew that he did not necessarily approve of them. When they had Connor and Zoe, it never really occurred to either of them how their differing views were going to affect their children. Cynthia didn't want to teach Connor and Zoe to contradict their father, but at the same time, she wanted so badly for Connor to know that he wasn't weird or doing anything wrong for wanting to wear a dress.

She bit her lip. Connor was still waiting for an answer. "Some people… just don't like it," she said, the answer lame and hollow on her tongue. She needed time to think about how to explain it better.

Connor blew out more bubbles for Zoe to chase. "Daddy doesn't like mushrooms, but still lets me eat them," he pointed out.

Cynthia couldn't help but smile. He was smart, there was no denying it. She tried to scramble for a better answer, but fortunately Zoe interrupted. "My turn," she informed Connor, gesturing towards the bubble wand.

He reluctantly handed it to her, glancing expectantly at his mom. "Why don't we talk about this later?" she suggested. He nodded, and darted off to pop the bubbles Zoe was blowing.

Fifteen minutes later, they were all back in the house; Cynthia had changed them out of their wet and soapy clothes and into fresh ones. Zoe lay on the living room couch playing with her Barbies, so Connor decided it was a good time to continue the conversation with his mom. He wandered into the kitchen, where Cynthia was chopping up vegetables for lunch. "Can we, uh, still talk?" he asked, nervously fiddling his thumbs.

"Sure," Cynthia said, peeling the carrots.

"Why doesn't Daddy like me to wear dresses?"

"Honey, some people have certain ideas on how people should dress. They think that dresses are girls' clothes, so boys shouldn't wear them."

Connor frowned. "But it's me wearing the dresses. Not… not the other people."

"I know, but some people just think differently. They think that all boys shouldn't wear girls' clothes." Cynthia explained, placing the vegetables to boil in the pot. "Do you want to help me make grilled cheese?"

"Yeah!" Connor exclaimed happily, dragging a stool over so he could reach the items on the counter.

Cynthia opened the fridge. "Smoked or Swiss?" she asked, a packet in either hand.

"Smoked!" Connor smiled. Cheese was one of his favorite foods.

"Zo, smoked cheese or Swiss?" Cynthia called over her shoulder.

"Smoked," Zoe replied immediately, from where she was still sprawled among her dolls.

"Swiss for me!" Cynthia commented as she placed three slices of cheese on a plate.

Connor helped to place the cheese between the slices of bread. "Swiss isn't as good because there's holes, so you actually get less cheese to eat," he suddenly pointed out. They both shared a laugh.

The sandwiches were in the oven and Connor had put away the stool when he randomly blurted out, "I like wearing dresses." Cynthia gave him a look that asked him to continue. "I, uh, I don't know. I just like them…" He paused. "Is it bad?"

She bent down so that they were at eye level. "No, sweetie, it's not," she reassured him. "Your daddy and I have… different views on this, but you should wear what makes you feel comfortable, okay?" She ruffled his hair affectionately, making him squirm. "Now why don't you help me set the table?"

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