This morning Munchkin tore out of her room waving a "Thomas the Tank Engine" shirt she wanted to wear. I said, "That's your brother's! It's too big for you." "No it's not." Monkey chimed in, "That shirt is size 2T. She can wear it!" I hesitated for a minute. The shirt was not one of my favorites. It also had short sleeves and it's chilly outside. But for some reason, I--who consider myself to be tomboyish and casual--didn't like the shirt as much because it was distinctly boyish. There wasn't a hint of femininity to it and I preferred she wear something else. However, she liked the shirt and since it was clean, there really was no objection I felt comfortable giving to the kids. Munchkin then pulled out a pair of tights so I ended up looking for a dress or skirt to wear over them. As I tugged a denim dress over her shirt, the sleeves peeked out, but Thomas and his fellow Really Useful Engines were hidden behind colorful buttons and cute cap sleeves. There, I thought, a perfect mix of femininity and boyishness. Then I thought, Here I go again. Again I was thinking that it's not okay for my little girl to just be feminine, nor just masculine, but a mix of both.
Even though I try to be open-minded, I catch myself doing things that perpetuate the much-reviled "pink is only for girls" theory. We have four cups that are of different colors. When I bring out the pink one, I remind myself not to automatically put it in front of Munchkin. When I pull out the cache of stickers, I stop myself from directing her to the distinctly "girly" ones instead of, say, the animal ones. When I try to distract Munchkin from a near-tantrum at a store, I stop short of pointing at a dress or toy and saying, "Isn't that pretty?" Munchkin loves baby dolls (and stuffed bears for that matter), totes a purse around, and is completely obsessed with shoes, but looking at "pretty" things can't be the only thing to take her mind off of those chips she just has to have.
Every night, as the kids lay in their bed, I make up a story about SuperMonkey and SuperMunchkin rescuing someone. Monkey usually picks a location--a cruise ship on the Hudson, Coney Island or the waterfront--and I weave a tale about the kids seeing a cause for action and, ta-da! turning into super heroes. Repeatedly, I have to resist from giving Munchkin the role of the comforter and Monkey the role of the super hero who does the heavy lifting. I mean, they both have magical powers so why can SuperMunchkin only lift and rescue a child from the roller coaster while SuperMonkey rescues an adult? Why should Monkey console the imaginary child whose cat has climbed the tree while Monkey is the one who brings it down? Considering Munchkin is the kind of kid who tackles her brother and climbs every jungle gym in sight without fear, my short-sighted instincts need correcting.
It's funny how issues of "typical" gender roles and preferences surround us, but it's my own behavior that I really need to tune into and tweak. If I'm a strong role model who wears baggy t-shirts for runs as well as sparkly shoes for a night out, Munchkin will learn from that. In fact, when she pulled out that baggy blue Thomas shirt, it's clear she has learned and it's me that is behind the curve. I'll get there though, one Really Useful Engine at a time.
Every night, as the kids lay in their bed, I make up a story about SuperMonkey and SuperMunchkin rescuing someone. Monkey usually picks a location--a cruise ship on the Hudson, Coney Island or the waterfront--and I weave a tale about the kids seeing a cause for action and, ta-da! turning into super heroes. Repeatedly, I have to resist from giving Munchkin the role of the comforter and Monkey the role of the super hero who does the heavy lifting. I mean, they both have magical powers so why can SuperMunchkin only lift and rescue a child from the roller coaster while SuperMonkey rescues an adult? Why should Monkey console the imaginary child whose cat has climbed the tree while Monkey is the one who brings it down? Considering Munchkin is the kind of kid who tackles her brother and climbs every jungle gym in sight without fear, my short-sighted instincts need correcting.
It's funny how issues of "typical" gender roles and preferences surround us, but it's my own behavior that I really need to tune into and tweak. If I'm a strong role model who wears baggy t-shirts for runs as well as sparkly shoes for a night out, Munchkin will learn from that. In fact, when she pulled out that baggy blue Thomas shirt, it's clear she has learned and it's me that is behind the curve. I'll get there though, one Really Useful Engine at a time.
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