Achievement unlocked

My son and I are in Sydney visiting family, catching ferries, looking at microcars at the museum. Nights are spent playing the latest game on a console hooked up to the bed-and-breakfast’s big TV. Pure holidays.

The sun spears through autumn trees and the harbour ripples light as we walk the narrow streets and laneways of Balmain. My son flies back and forth on the flying fox in a park, while I fail to swing even once between monkey bars. Shoulders too old for that, it would seem, despite a vigorous exercise regime.

In recent months I have been more aware of the feminist, feminine role model I need to provide to my son. Gradually I have been more willing to wear neutral clothes appropriate to practical circumstances, appearing androgynous. This has been only occasionally conscious, and not something discussed with my teenager.

Today, as we leave the park, we battle back and forth on the pavement in a game best described as fencing with fingers instead of sabres. We leap and duck and laugh. I’m wearing trekking pants and a merino t-shirt, black hiking sandals. I have earrings in and my hair up, but no makeup.

We settle down as a woman goes the other way, walking her fluffy little dog. She grins as she passes, “your mum’s always going to win!” she laughs and strolls on.

My son smiles at me. “Well done, you were seen as a woman, just wearing those clothes.”

I look at him, masking my astonishment. Never doubt that your kids have their radar on your life. I wonder if this response was prompted by some microscopic gesture or fleeting facial expression of mine in the moment; the warmth of being seen. When I ask him later if he remembers anything about that, he will shrug – it was nothing particular, just a passing moment.

At the time, I just exclaim, “It’s like they say in gaming: achievement unlocked.”