What are little boys made of?
Slugs and snails
And puppy-dogs' tails,
That's what little boys are made of.
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice
And everything nice,
That's what little girls are made of.
So. My kids are fitting
into gender stereotypes obnoxiously well. Boy loves tractors above all things,
except dinosaurs and sharks. Girl loves to accessorize. Boy goes on a murderous
rampage, followed by Girl, who comes along asking if you’re okay and if she can
help you. Boy will make monster sounds and punch you. Girl will kiss it all
better. Boy plays in the dirt and mud gleefully while Girl watches disdainfully
from a distance. Boy inhales food “cookie monster style” while Girl takes
dainty bites and spends an hour eating. Boy throws a toy and stomps on it with wild
villainous laughter. Girl picks it up carefully and clasps it lovingly to her
chest. When Boy wants to play with you, your toy better be ready for Battle
Royale with his toy. When Girl wants to play with you, your toy better be ready
for a calm, happy heart-to-heart with her toy. When Boy coughs, he opens his
cavernous mouth to its maximum and sticks his tongue way out, but when Girl
coughs, she covers her mouth delicately with her miniature hand. Boy
loves cars. Girl loves horses. Boy loves blue. Girl loves pink.
Seriously, kids? Seriously??
Try to think outside the box for once! It’s not like we’ve taught you to be
this way. Did we?? If anything, we’ve tried teaching the opposite, especially
regarding the Rambo-boy behavior, cuz it’s abrasive; and also especially
regarding the Girlie Princess stuff, because it makes us both uncomfortable. I wasn't a girlie girl, and Dooley isn't a chauvinist mans-man. But for reals. It's like my kids studied the following illustration for what kind of things they could be into. To a T. I must admit, I am somehow morbidly proud when I'm told that Tuesday is SUCH a girl, and Dirt is SUCH a boy, but also, weirdly embarrassed, as though I have failed in teaching my children equality or something.
To our darling Girl:
We didn’t teach you to recoil at the touch of grass or sand as an infant. We
didn’t teach you to freak the fork out when your hands get dirty, or to be a
whiny little drama queen about everything, or to have the attitude of a
13-year-old by the tender age of 2. You actually throw your head back and
run to your room, flailing your cute little arms, to slam the door and cry when
we tell you no. Seriously. You throw the most cliché tantrums of all time, flinging
yourself to the ground to sob into the carpet while kicking your adorable tiny
legs. At least try to be creative. Sheeesh. I will say, however, my favorite
was when I told you to stop playing and eat your dinner, and you abruptly stopped,
lowered your head, stared at me sternly and said, “I’m laughing. Okay?!” then got right back to playing,
leaving me stunned and amused simultaneously.
To our precious Boy:
We didn’t teach you how to make gun sounds. We didn’t teach you that violence
is awesome. We didn’t teach you to break everything you touch. We didn’t teach
you to get all bashful about hugging and kissing. We didn’t teach you to only
like animals that are predators. We didn’t’ teach you about “girl slime”. We
didn’t teach you that only boys could play with Buzz Lightyear. We also didn’t
teach you to play with your little boy bits all the time. Seriously. We didn't teach you that you absolutely had to see the snot in the kleenex after blowing your nose. There is a
slight possibility that we may have reinforced the notion that farts and burps
were funny, and that poops were to be admired, but that’s neither here nor
there…
Dirt was a sweet and
mellow baby, and gradually morphed into the loud, adorable 3 ½-year-old monster
that he is now. He can still be really cuddly and affectionate, nestling his
cute giant self into my lap and squeezing me around the neck with a double-armed
vice grip and saying “I love you Mama”, for no reason. Tuesday was a more
demanding baby, and has morphed into a classic 2-year-old and a fiercely opinionated,
independent little girl. “Let me do it!” is her screeching mantra. She hardly
ever wants to cuddle. But then she can be sooooo amazingly sweet, stroking my
face and hair with her teeny tiny fingers and smiling when she sighs, “Mama…I
wuv you…sooo much!” Melt melt melt.
So yes, there are
exceptions to the standard boy-girl stuff. Tuesday happily plays with the same “boy”
toys as her older brother—possibly because we limit the number of creepy dolls
or frilly ponies that she has. Tuesday tries to be scary and fierce with her
brother when he is storming the house, roaring like a dinosaur; she makes the
cutest little wrinkle-nosed monster face, but the sound she emits definitely
rivals Dirt’s ear-splitting monster shrieks. Also, Dirt can be really sweet and
gentle with the cat, and will even kiss our boo-boos all better just like his
little sister. Sometimes. After he’s inflicted them.
They do have some
commonalities as well. They both take pleasure in blasting out my ears with their
screaming. Both are stubborn and loud. They both enjoy trains and yes, high
heels. Both love dancing and singing. Both love being naked. Both hate having
their faces wiped off. Both are goofy attention-hungry hams.
I’m sure a lot of
this behavior is standard 2-4-year-old stuff, but I am often surprised (and
irritated!) by how naturally they fall into these gender roles. Don’t get me
wrong, I totally think it’s super cute when Tuesday is being all nurturing and
Dirt is being all rough-and-tumble, but I wonder how much I’m unknowingly infusing
them with these societal norms. I don’t at all like when Dirt is being violent
or when Tuesday is being prissy, but then I think about how I get excited with
them over things like tractors and sparkly tutus, and I totally use a
different voice—a big tough man voice and then an animated girlie voice—without
even thinking about it. And of course I think it’s cute to dress Tuesday in
frilly things on occasion, and don’t at all discourage Dirt’s love of boy
things. But. STILL. It’s interesting being in the middle of it, raising both a boy who can be brutish and a girl who can be prissy, despite the fact that those characteristics are not at all instilled by their parental units. That we know of.
I am curious, though...How are other people’s
little girls and boys the same and/or different? We basically raised ours the same, but they are night and day. Do other people see differences in their kids that could be traced to infancy? How big of a role do most parents play in selecting their childrens' clothes and toys and the colors of their belongings? Obviously retailers play a major part simply by producing boy and girl things according to popular culture, but I always wonder which came first. Do most girls innately want all things pink and frilly, or do they want all things pink and frilly because they're encouraged to like all things pink and frilly? Same question for boys with blue and manly stuff. The one that concerns me more than the material is this: Do we treat them differently without realizing it? Guess it comes down to your standard nature v. nurture.
I found a brief but interesting article on the subject, if you care to read a more scientific spin on the subject: Pink Brain, Blue Brain. It makes me feel better about the fact that both kids are getting new tractors for Christmas. And little guitars...but now I feel guilty for getting Dirt a blue one and Tuesday a purple one with (*horrified gasp!*) flowers on it! For shame.
Raising an Equality-Minded Male is another good article.
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