Thomas Jones and Rob Gibson are acutely aware that they are setting themselves up for a barrage of "nature versus nurture" jokes whenever they tell people their son is a budding ballet prodigy.

So be it, though. Their adopted offspring, James Gibson-Jones, appears destined for some species of ballet greatness, having been snapped up by the National Ballet of Canada this fall after just two years of lessons.

He began dabbling in dance at the urging of teachers and family friends in Bowmanville, who sensed an affinity for rhythm and performance in the charismatic 11-year-old with the "classic Billy Elliot build."

Gibson, for one, knows it's going to raise eyebrows, bringing up the (pink) elephant in the room – actually a typical suburban backyard fraught with excitable golden retrievers – unprompted and in good humour.

"That was the first thing that I thought of," he chuckles. "Here are the two gay men and their son, the dancer. There are those stereotypes: `We're recruiting.' `Only gay men dance.' Things like that. I just find that incredibly funny. We didn't even push him in dance. We were thinking gymnastics because he was so flexible."

"Nobody's actually brought it up," shrugs Jones. "But if it happens, it happens. So be it."

Back to that in a minute. First, though, let it be said that it is true young James probably would not have joined the National Ballet School this year if Jones and Gibson hadn't adopted him seven years ago.

He and his biological half-brother Brandon (now 13) were just 3 and 5 when they first met their fathers-to-be in 2002. Removed from a home plagued by abuse, addictions and mental-health issues when James was scarcely 18 months old, the two were living with their second set of foster parents when Gibson and Jones came their way.

At the time, Ontario law was only just warming to the idea of gay couples adopting and the Star followed the two would-be dads through the gruelling, nearly year-long process of interviews and uncertainties that eventually brought James and Brandon into their home.

"The acceptance of two women or two guys adopting was so out of the norm," recalls Jones, who bounced among foster homes himself during a rough childhood. "How could the children be parented successfully without a traditional family? In recent years, this notion has changed and the community is receptive. When we moved from Brampton to Oshawa (and then to Bowmanville) we were initially on guard about how things would play out, but we were pleasantly pleased with how receptive the schools were, as were our neighbours."

Gibson's and Jones's success as parents is evident in a host of ways, not least of which is James's departure to the National Ballet School a mere seven years after being plucked out of dire circumstances.

Still, perhaps more painful than the irony of giving up James to nearly year-round boarding school after such a short time in their care is the knowledge that opponents of same-sex adoption might be tempted to use their son's gifts against them. Gay parenting stereotypes and animosity do persist. The state of Florida, for instance, is appealing a 2008 decision that overturned its ban on same-sex adoption.

However, beyond the plainly obvious fact that not all male ballet dancers are gay, the family has science on their side to silence potential critics.

"If you look at outcomes, kids who are raised by gay or lesbian parents are no more likely to be gay or lesbian themselves," says Meg Gibson, a social worker and PhD student at the University of Toronto with a background in the history of medicine's treatment of homosexuality, citing research supported by the American Psychological Association.

"There is also some evidence that they may be less strict in their interpretation of sexuality and gender than kids from strictly heterosexual backgrounds," adds Gibson, herself a lesbian parent. "So that might mean that a kid has a chance to explore a talent that may, in another context, have been squashed ... If you have a family – whether that family is gay, heterosexual or a mix of the two – that says follow your own interests, follow your own talents regardless of what everybody says you should be doing, that's phenomenal. And that may be more likely in a family where people have already had to deal with those stereotypes and question them and challenge them."

This month, the American Library Association named the children's book And Tango Makes Three – based on the true story of two male penguins in the Central Park Zoo who bonded as mates, attempted to hatch a rock and were eventually given a transplanted egg of their own that resulted in a chick – the "most banned" title of the year. And this nearly five years after its first publication, in 2005.

The book's authors, Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell, became parents themselves 7 1/2 months ago, when their daughter, Gemma, was born to a surrogate mother. The generally positive response to And Tango Makes Three, which has racked up a number of awards and continues to fly off shelves (especially since its widespread banning was publicized), has them hopeful that non-traditional parenting arrangements will eventually cease to raise eyebrows.

Much of the good feedback comes from children who say the book gives voice to a family "that wasn't being written about but with which they were already familiar because they went to school with kids who had two moms or two dads," says Parnell.

Parnell and Richardson live in New York City, where unconventional families are common. Elsewhere, it can be a different story.

"What we'll hear about are families who are more actively persecuted in other areas of the country – a two-mom family that is being made to feel like true outsiders and whose child is being made to feel like an outsider and that is therefore grateful to the book and wants the book to serve as an example and, as we were talking about, be a help."

James Gibson-Jones has already learned to brush aside the schoolyard taunts that inevitably await any boy who heeds the call of the slippers. He went to elementary school wearing a brooch in the shape of a ballerina, despite the teasing it invited.

So, fending off protests of those who might believe that a child brought up with two fathers has been "sissified" into Swan Lake should be a cakewalk. He's smart enough, anyway, to point out that ballet requires incredible athletic discipline and that his classes are swarming with girls.

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"He has a bit of the diva in him, which gives him the edge he needs," says Gibson.

That he does. James was, as Jones recalls, the kid who'd be "up on the desk, singing, the moment the teacher left the room" and a rambunctious handful from time to time until he discovered dance.

"I have a lot of energy and I like to prance around," says James.

He's also determined. Already smitten with dance after a year in classes, he was watching The Nutcracker with "Pop and Dad" last December when he decided, as he recalls: "That's it. That's what I want to do."

Jones and Gibson were stunned when, mere weeks later, he was the fourth child out of more than a thousand tryouts for the National Ballet called back for a longer weeding-out process in July. And stunned again when he got another callback at the end of that month.

Such a brisk trajectory isn't unheard of in National Ballet circles, although it's definitely uncommon.

James's story touched enough Bowmanville residents familiar with his talents and his past that they were ready to mobilize a fundraiser to help cover the $26,000 in tuition fees. The two dads said thanks, but no thanks, even though it meant going into debt.

James excitedly dashed off to residence at the National Ballet School in September while his parents temporarily suppressed nightmares of looming insolvency and early-onset "empty-nest syndrome" to concentrate on the smile lighting up their son's face.

He's only come home for two weekends since.

And then, just Friday, came the best news yet: James already has a role in this year's National Ballet Christmas production of The Nutcracker.

Pop and Dad are floored.

"I just think it's great that he set his sights on wanting to be part of the National Ballet last December and here we are, 10 months later, and he has a part in The Nutcracker," marvels Jones. "I wish I had some of that conviction."

James, meanwhile, looks forward to further chasing his own dreams – being a ballet teacher or the founder of his own dance company.

"It makes me feel known," he says. "It's my moment, onstage."