I am a feminist’s nightmare.
I believe in definite gender specific rolls.
Oh, I’m not hard core about it.
The boy played Barbies and with the girl’s dolls, and the girl played with the boy’s trucks in the dirt, climbed trees, and shot her stick guns.
I taught the boy how to do laundry, mop, dust, vacuum, and do the dishes, but I also taught him to open the door for a lady, to carry her packages, to help her over ice, etc.
The girls in college don’t know what to do when he opens the door for them.
Chivalry isn’t dead.
I firmly believe that if you have a man, and he isn’t disabled, he should be doing the man jobs.
Because if he didn’t, then we wouldn’t get the pleasure of watching all those muscles.
Now would we?
In full disclosure, I didn’t sit in the Veranda sipping a mint julep, I unload 1200 pounds of dirt all by myself, and I transplanted strawberries.
Then I went to the lawn chair Veranda and chugged sipped on a mint julep the gallon of water I had brought out for my man.