We've been playing a daily round of musical chairs when it comes to our mealtime seating arrangement since all the kids require a booster seat and we only happen to own two. Last night, that landed Drew in his older sister's seat, to which she found to be highly offensive and starting spouting off at him in a crazed 6-year-old tyrade.
"It's MY seat, not yours, and if you sit in that pink seat you'll be... THE G-WORD!"
That made me turn around from the cutting board.
"What is the G-word?" I asked her.
"I'm not telling you," she said. "I'll get in trouble."
"WHAT IS IT?!" I demanded, trying to think of all the terrible horrible very bad G-words that I've ever accidentally said in front of her that might lead her to believe that she would need to say "g-word" instead of the actual word for fear of my wrath.
"Girl," she finally said, under her breath.
I laughed inside. Then sighed at the blatant example of how brainwashed our kids can be by these bullshit gender norms.
I gave her the speech I always give whenever she talks to me about boy and girl colors. Or boy and girl toys.
I reminded her that boys can wear make up and get their toe nails polished and put on skirts and dresses if they so please.
I retold the story about the man at the nail salon who probably got clear nail polish because some people think it's funny when boys where colored nail polish.
"Aren't people silly?," I said to her.
Because they are.
Actually, they're pretty fucking stupid.
I can't tell you the number of times someone saw my son's toenails painted and said how much they bet his father hates that. Or how people have giggled when they see him carrying around a purple sippy cup.
OMG. WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TO? A BOY CARRYING A PURPLE SIPPY CUP!
Sometimes I grow tired of having to rail against society's gender norms. It's always easier and gentler to ride the smooth waters of the status quo.
But I do it because it's my job in raising compassionate girls. And boys.
If only more men were forced to sit in pink chairs, paint their toe nails, or put on a skirt every now and then at the hands of three sisters.
Like a good man once told me "At least he'll have the chauvanism beaten right out of him."
I couldn't have said it better myself.