Wednesday Addams comes down for dinner with their braids cut off. Oh, Wednesday, how could you! Morticia cries. How could you come up with something so beautifuly horrifying? She ruffles their hair and offers to go shopping for new clothing if they don't like what's in their closet anymore. After all, with a ominous hairstyle like that, one simply must have the closet to match
Pugsley shyly brings a 'friend' home one evening. Thing catches them kissing on the stairs. Gomez sits Pugsley down and starts explaining how to court a man.
One of their grandchildren goes by different pronouns every time they visit. They call the child beautiful and give the child knives engraved with each version of the child's name
Wednesday expresses worry about someone they met, alone, struggling to make ends meet, who eventually admits that they were disowned for getting top surgery. There's an extra seat at the Thanksgiving table that year, and showers of compliments on how handsomely their new child has dressed
A grandchild admits that they don't know why they haven't fallen in love yet. That they don't feel normal. "That's alright," Morticia assures them. "Normal is an illusion. What's normal for the spider is a calamity for the fly."
The family goes to Pride, all of the mismatched, odd, terrifying limbs of it. Morticia helps Wednesday paint a rainbow on their cheek
Gomez joins a line of parents wearing white angel wings, his dripping in glorious black, standing between crowds of yelling protesters, a physical wall between the slurs and the hate and his children, his children, as old as the children are. Many protesters are challenged to duels. None of them dare respond.
Morticia sees someone wearing a t-shirt that says 'Free Mom hugs', watches everyone that walks up and clings to them as though it's their only chance at parental contact for months. She marches over and demands one, as much as she loathes t-shirts-- tacky, normal things, they are-- and every child, young or old, there that day gets a hug, an assurance that they are simply stunning, and an offer of newt wing pie and an evening reading Edgar Allen Poe to Cleopatra, should they ever be lonely or afraid.
Morticia reminisces with Wednesday about a girl she once dated, oh the glorious days, and Wednesday smiles slightly, knowing they never have to be afraid to bring someone home. The truth about what girls and boys and non-binary friends they've kissed hovers on the tip of their tongue They know, too, if they explain that none of it was romantic, that they've never wanted what their parents had, Morticia will listen. She might not understand, no, but will let her child be, to form whatever relationships seem best. After all, how can you raise an incredible child and then not trust their judgement?
