Yes, bugger it, I watched the Royal Wedding.

And decided that you’ve got to hand it to those Brits: They know how to wear hats. Could we bring back hats, in America, please? Posh? Can you help? More from The Angle on Boston.com here.

Also: Yes, I bloody well woke up my six-year-old for the wedding because I thought she’d enjoy the pomp. Her favorite part? Watching the kids in the royal wedding party attempting to do the queenly wave. I think she’ll grow up with a healthy skepticism toward the monarchy and Anglophila.

The princess platform

IT’S TAKEN as a given in America that every girl aspires to be a princess. This is no surprise, given how much merchandise for girls is bejeweled, bedazzled, or marked with someone wearing a tiara.

Whether girls aspire to be Kate Middleton is an entirely different question.

Read the rest of the column from the Globe here.

Boys, toes, and pink

THIS MONTH, I committed a couple of parental sins involving the scourge of nail polish. As I was painting my daughter’s toenails pink — buying into the culture of girlishness — my 2-year-old son wandered in and announced that he wanted his toes painted, too. I splashed yellow polish on one big toe before he lost interest completely. But apparently, I was setting him up for a lifetime of gender confusion.

That was the point of last week’s pseudo-controversy over a J.Crew e-mail ad, which showed the company’s creative director at play with her towheaded young son. Their Saturday pastime, the ad suggests, is painting his toenails the color of a plastic lawn flamingo. “Lucky for me,’’ it reads, “I ended up with a boy whose favorite color is pink. Toenail painting is way more fun in neon.’’

Read the rest of the column from the Globe here.

Why I will never be president of the PTO

AM I a terrible person for saying I no longer derive joy from volunteering in my daughter’s first grade class?

I realized this last week as I was helping, for the 10th or 12th time, with a weekly enterprise known as “math games.’’ The class is divided into groups of six, who sit at tables helmed by parents, taking part in some math-y activity. Every 15 minutes, a bell goes off and the kids rotate to the next table. Sometimes, a parent gets an actual game — bingo or somesuch — and things go reasonably well. Last week, I was handed a stack of worksheets and told to make the kids write equations, sorted along such lines as whether they added up to 10.

“Hi, guys,’’ I said cheerily. “Today we’ve got a worksheet and Fact Triangles!’’ It wasn’t long before one seven-year-old looked up at me morosely and said, “I am not having fun.’’

Well, that makes two of us, I thought.

(Read the rest from the Boston Globe here.)