Last night I put on a new pair of pajama pants that Sam bought me. They were supposed to be for Christmas, but he declared the pants I was wearing to be unfit because of all the holes and gave me the new ones. Anyway, a short time after I put them on, I grabbed my phone from the living room and tried to put it in my pocket and failed because of no pockets.
“Man, why can’t they put pockets on women’s pajama bottoms?” I commented out loud. Little Man was in the room.
“You don’t have pockets on your pants?” he asked.
“Not on these. Your dad has pockets on his pajama pants, but apparently they think that women don’t need pockets. Newsflash — we need pockets, too!” I held up phone, indicating that I had nowhere to put it. (And, nope, I don’t do the phone in my boobs thing. Or money or anything else. That shit would get lost. And ew.)
Little Man nodded quite seriously. “Yeah, you guys should have pockets, too, that’s not fair! But be careful, Mom, you don’t want to end up like Susan B. Anthony.”
“End up like Susan B. Anthony?” I wasn’t quite sure how my plight of the pockets-less pajama bottoms tied in.
“Yeah, you know she went to jail over fighting for women’s rights,” he said. “I don’t want to see you go to jail, too.”
I got a kick out of that, but it did lead to an interesting conversation about gender equality.