I’m taking my boy to McDonald’s. He takes a “Happy Meal for boys” and is offered a Transformers toy. He really loves the Transformers licence, but before he opens it, he realizes that the toy is very bad. So we exchange it for the “girl” toy, a “My Little Pony” figurine to comb that he likes instantly.
As we leave the restaurant, we meet a young man and a young woman, close, leaning against the wall. The young man stares at my son, lingers on the pink pony in his hands and grumbles, before throwing in an incredibly sarcastic tone.
Well, look at that pretty little pony of yours!
My son, not understanding the masculinist affront of that turd, immediately replies
Oh, yes, I know. He’s very pretty. Besides, it’s pink!
Surprised but amused by the exchange, I suppress my desire to intervene. My son obviously doesn’t need me. The young man goes on, as sarcastic as ever:
Ah, I wish I had the same one, that’s for sure.
My son stops for a moment, looks at his pony, then at the man, straight in the eyes. He suddenly approaches him with a very determined look and I fear he’s angry.
I rush to prevent him from trying to kick the guy and make things worse. But that’s not what happens. He stops suddenly about thirty centimetres from the couple and starts whispering.
You know, actually, it’s pretty easy, sir. You have to go for a Happy Meal, but with the girls’ toy, huh, because the boys’ toy sucks. It’s a “Decepticon” that doesn’t even change. You heard me well, eh, the girls’ toy. Even if you’re a boy. Do you… do you understand? Can you do it?
He stares at the man as if waiting for a confirmation. In front of him, the young man is amazed, and red as a beet. His girlfriend starts to puff. My son suddenly seems to understand the situation.
Oh. Okay. I understand.
Oh, yes, I understand! You don’t say anything because you can’t order a Happy Meal! You’re right, that’s only big enough for kids! So, since you’re taller, you should order another burger with it, or you’ll be really hungry.
Having said what he needed to say, he concludes with a “Good evening” and takes my hand, as a sign that he has finished and is ready to go.
We went back to the car and headed home. I think I could still hear the young woman laughing her head off when we left the parking lot.