To my son James, the differences between the genders are becoming increasingly obvious and important. He has decided that boys, and only boys, are faaaantastic. And praise the Lord, he is a boy, NOT a girl.

Anatomy appears to be one of the key factors in his division of the sexes. James constantly runs through his “wee wee” list with me in an effort to keep things straight.

“James hav a wee wee.”
“Yup.”
“Daddy hav a wee wee.”
“Yup.”
“Katie don’t hav one.”
“Nope.”
“An you don’t hav one eder.”
“Nope.”

We go through this list several times a week. You can’t be too careful when it comes to wee wees. I’m still not sure why the presence or absence of a wee wee is so monumentally important to him. But my husband assures me it is.

I don’t mind James being proud of his anatomy. I’m thrilled that he is happy to be a boy. But I’m saddened by his decision to label persons not sporting a little flap of skin as inferior. I may be taking this too personal, but how did I go from being the center of his universe to being a second rate citizen? I’ve been displaced by a wee wee.

It all started with preschool. Ever since James began going to school he’s become less of a lover and more of a dictator; a sweet dictator, but a dictator none the less. Gone are the days of unlimited hugs and kisses. Now I have to ask before I pucker up and plant one on his cheek. I’m not sure, but I think the boys in the playground have something to do with it. They have taught James to exclude girls from their pack. They race around the wood chips as a unit no girl can infiltrate. The one time I saw James playing on his own, a little girl approached him. He immediately sped away. The girl followed in hot pursuit but James was determined to maintain the boy code of ethics . . . no girls allowed.

I didn’t really pay much attention until the “No girls alowd” sign went up on James’ door. He was playing with a 7-year-old friend who was obviously solidifying James’ understanding that girls don’t make good playmates. Now Katie (my 5-year-old daughter) and I have to ask James for permission to go in his room. And each request for entry must be accompanied by an emphatic p-l-e-e-e-a-s-e!

I’m still not sure what to do with it all. Should I confront James and tell him his exclusionary behavior is not acceptable, or should I humor him and allow him to continue treating girls, and Mommy, like yesterdays lunch? I refuse to raise a chauvinist. I will die before I let James trample Katie’s self worth. What should I do?

I think I’ll wait it out. James is suffering from a temporary case of peer pressure colliding with his growing sense of gender identity. James is just trying to figure out where he fits in the scheme of things. For the first time in his life he is exposed to new ways of thinking and behaving. He’s not sure how to process things, or how to determine if his family’s values should take precedence over his friend’s values. So for now he’s decided to spread his wings and go with the outsiders. He’ll discover soon enough that girls are pretty cool. And that it’s not the presence of a wee wee that makes for a good friend, but the nature of a person’s heart.

Until then I must contend with the male cliques and “no girls allowed” signs. After all, they are just James’ way of telling the world that he’s growing up and needs to be treated like a man. So, to respect his wishes I’ve decided to let him cut the grass and pay for his shoes. Just kidding. He doesn’t need shoes right now. He does however, already exhibit manlike behavior. If I’m cleaning the house, he directs me to his mess. If I sit down with a book, he asks for a drink. And if I’m taking out the trash, he disappears.