Pink Tents and Tutus, Or Bursting My Son's Breast-Cancer-is-No-Big-Deal Bubble
This July my husband took our eleven-year-old son to set up and break down tents. Pink tents, to be specific. Hundreds upon hundreds of pink tents. Our local Boy Scout troop had asked scouts and parents to volunteer as a way of supporting the people walking in the Avon 39 Walk to End Breast Cancer. So I signed them up. Yep, without even asking. Would I have preferred if my son had asked (no, begged) to take part? Sure, that might have been nice, but that wasn't gonna happen. Now that I have hair again, my kids have practically forgotten that I ever had cancer. To be honest, I was simply following established protocol in our house when I signed my son up for this. You see, he never asks to join in on any organized activities of any kind. Instead, he drops hints as to what he...