The Gender Agenda

Many people who know them profess the Axis to be the most boy-like boys they have ever met, with more than one friend describing them as 'slugs and snails and puppy dogs tails' little boys. Yet the gruesome pair are indeed in touch with with their feminine side. Kinda...Here are three ways in which gender identity has reared its head recently at Axis Towers:

1. Anything Pink: The Axis love pink. They look pretty damn good in it, too, the multicultural metrosexuals they indubitably are. Pie rocks a mean fuchsia t with a dinosaur motif, while the Kong is cool in pastels and peaches. A couple of years ago, Pie was so into pink that I saw a cup at Tate St Ives that was bright pink, had lots of different textures on it, a photo of a neon sign flashing 'PINK' and a pink china doll on. Naturally, I got it for him. It's still his favourite cup, and it is pretty darn awesome. As he is away with his dad, I was cradling it fondly when my GBF came round. GBF sniffed disdainfully at the gorgeous article, muttered 'isn't that a girl's cup?' then slouched off outside with an ever-so-manly roll-up while I huffed and puffed inside. Right then, GBF, that's another lump of coal in your Christmas stocking...

2. Modes of (Ad)Dress: Recently we were at a school fete, about which, more later, once the lawsuits have subsided. At this joyful event there were several stalls, all of which are designed to rob you of all the small change produced in the national mint this year with the speed and dexterity of a Victorian pickpocket. I gave the Axis a miniscule amount of shrapnel and some centimes left over from a 1996 French exchange trip and sent them off to do their worst. Sure enough, within a couple of minutes the following exchange occurred.
Stallholder: (propelling Pie forward) Are you this boy's mother?
Me: Depends...
Stallholder: He says he has to call you 'Sir'.
Me: I...er...
Stallholder: I told him not to be so cheeky but he's quite adamant.
Noah: Sir! Sir! I did as I told you Sir! May I have a drink now Sir please Sir!

OK, so there is a reason for this. Recently there was a co-ordinated operation to clean the Axis' bedroom. It required military planning and precision, and the little toads would not do a thing I said. In order to get their attention, I told them that from now on, they were to address me as 'Sir' or I wouldn't do anything they wanted. They took great delight in this, and adapted happily to the new Peppermint Patty-style gender-confused moniker. Unfortunately as I was explaining this to the unconvinced member of the PTA (which fascist society, as any self-respecting parent of schoolies knows, has all the understanding and empathy of the Spanish Inquisition on an off day), the Kong had decided to spend some of his money, on a very fetching little hairbrush and slide set, which he purchased from an apparently seriously short-sighted pensioner (these are another abundant feature of the joys of school fetes).  Said older lady beamed happily at him and said to me 'Isn't she going to look lovely? Look what good care she takes of her hair!'. Undeterred, the Kong, resplendent in the most boy-ful clothes he possesses, beamed back, unwrapped the hairbrush and proceeded to roundly attack his brother with it, sending him fleeing, howling, into the middle of the taekwondo demonstration going on in the Year 1 playground. Several cracked clay slabs later we were advised to leave the area before any further action was taken. Axis ejected, once more.

3. Messianic Complexes: The Kong was lying in the bath, hair flowing out behind him like a halo, when I discovered the water had gone dangerously cold and asked him to get out. 'No.' Why not, el Kongerone? 'Because I'm the little baby Jesus.' What? He fetched his flannels and stuck them all over his body. 'Look. Got cloths wrapped round all tightly. Heh heh heh heh heh heh.' Sunday school appears to have backfired. I then overheard Kong chatting with one of his little (female) friends at nursery: Kong: I'm the little baby Jesus. Friend: No I'M the little baby Jesus. Kong: No you can't, cos you're a girl. Friend: Jesus was a girl too. And a boy. Kong: Like my grandad?

Holy macaroni.