When I was a kid I told my mom I wanted a Lego set for Christmas. I got a Lego set. It was pink and purple and I got to “build” a playground. A playground that was pretty much already built for me.
I definitely had the little kid version of, “What the fuck is this?” The pink. The purple. The flowers. The fact that I had to do very little building myself. It was crap. I barely remember playing with it. I’ve always been a bit of a “tomboy.” Even now as much as I like to get dolled up and look pretty…yes, even in pink…explosions of glitter make me vomit.
Needless to say, I’m really happy about this. Why can’t we just let kids play with whatever the hell they want? Why are we assigning labels to play? Are we so concerned with what other people will think about us that we have to box our children into neat little labeled packages? If my son wants to play with dolls. Let him. He’ll be a dad one day, right? If my daughter wants to play with action figures, go for it! And if she LOVES princesses and explosions of pink and glitter well…I will grit my teeth and give her all the glitter in the world.
I would rather raise a son that thinks it’s OK to play with dolls than raise a son that thinks it’s OK to bully a boy who plays with dolls.
Since my daughters were little tots, they’ve gravitated toward building blocks, science kits, and bows-and-arrows. We hardly ever saw them with a doll in hand. In fact, now 7, they received Barbies at their recent birthday party. By the time we made it home, one of the toys was missing her leg. “She seemed so bendy,” my daughter exclaimed. “I thought her legs were supposed to do that.” Far from demure, gentle spirits, the twins often wrestle in the yard, after digging for worms, of course.
But they also love princesses. They’ll dress up in my fanciest clothes and don lip gloss, and blush and braid each other’s hair. They’ll act out scenes from Princess Sofia and spend hours meticulously placing beads on a…
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