My son’s wings
Meet my son Mason. He turned two in December and he is the very definition of a toddler: he’s inquisitive, temperamental, fiercely independent and wilful, and he’s the most loving little fella you’ll ever meet.
|What? You don’t sit around in your Cars jammies, some heels and wings?|
|Mason and his adoring Papa, my Dad.|
When we take Story to the grocery store in these outfits, people fawn over her. But when people see my son wearing the same things, we get a lot of funny looks and sideways glances. Some “tsk-ing” as we walk by. Why is this? Why can my toddler son not embrace whatever makes his sweet little heart happy? Why do people embrace my daughter enjoying tools and the mechanics of cars yet still shy away from a little boy who wants to twirl and sparkle? Most of all: what’s it of anyone’s concern? Are they intimidated by his affinity for things we’ve labelled “girly”? Do they think we’re doing him an injustice?
|Don’t they look pretty?|
My daughter now loves all things pink. She hates dolls, loves cars and is an artist. We embrace her interests.
My son loves to dance, play with trains, cars and wear sparkly clothes. We embrace his interests, too.
This Easter, from my parents, Mason and Story will both be getting matching bunny purses, because you know what? That’s what will make my little guy’s eyes shine more than any dinosaur toy could. And that’s more important than what anyone at the grocery store thinks he “should” like.
Those play wings mean more than just dress up. They represent his freedom to be whomever he is meant to be.