Woman’s Business

Oscar attended a birthday party for a classmate today.  A male classmate.  Shopping for this young man was easy.  One Beyblade, one card with a football on the front, and he was done.

Next week he will be attending another birthday party.  A party for a girl.  I asked him what he would like to get for the young lady.

Here is what transpired in my car this evening.  Have a listen, won’t you?

OSCAR. I can’t even imagine what she would like.

ME.  Well, you’ve been in school with her for several months.  Does she have any hobbies?

OSCAR.  Makeup.

ME.  Her hobby is makeup?

OSCAR.  She likes to put it on.  You know, lipstick and powder and all this other stuff.

ME. She’s eight.

OSCAR.  I can’t explain it.

ME. Are you sure it’s lipstick?  Maybe it’s lip gloss?

OSCAR.  What’s the difference?

ME.  Lip gloss is shiny.  Lipstick has color.

OSCAR.  It’s probably lip gloss.

ME.  Okay, how about we get her a little makeup bag and some lip gloss.

OSCAR.  That sounds good.

ME.  Do you want to come with me when I shop for it?

OSCAR.  Oh, no.  That sounds like woman’s business. And woman’s business is woman’s business.  And I can’t get involved in that.


As a writer, I like to have the final word, to wrap everything up with a neat little thought-provoking bow . . . but, honestly, I have nothing.  I can’t top that, and I won’t even try.