I'm a feminist. One of those feminist with hairy legs, although in my case is because of motherhood and laziness, not because of ideology.
And now that Christmas is coming, like any other good feminist, I have to make sure that my son's presents comply with my non-sexist-toys policy. Last year, for example, I got him a doll. When he pressed the doll's belly and she started crying my son looked at me with a mixture of fear, surprise and uneasiness that meant clearly something along the lines "what is wrong with her? Do something! Make her stop! Take her away!" I remember seeing that same expression somewhere else when Daniel was a baby.
Anyway, what the hell was I thinking? Genetics, girl, genetics! Myself, I never played with dolls as a child. My mother used to ask what were my dolls doing, and I would invariably answer "they are sleeping". My father, of course, was thrilled to provide scalextric, legos and mecanos for me.
Is it maybe that my lack of maternal instinct is so obvious I passed it on to my child? Or is it another of those instances in which life, meaning Daniel, makes ones ideas and values shake? It is to be expected, isn't it? Life gives liberal children to conservative parents, and children ready to comply with gender stereotypes to feminist mothers. Couldn't he at least like stuffed animals?
In any case, overall, I should probably consider myself lucky. If my son asks for a tool kit I could give it to him without going too far from my ideas, but if I had a daughter and she would ask for a pink vacumm-cleaner I would be forced to tell her that Santa had to keep it to clean Rudolf's shit.
Things as they are, my feminism is limited nowadays to after dinner speeches and buying pink leotards to Daniel from time to time. And I'm afraid we will find Ray Mcqueen an several of his buddies under the tree this year. Grandma, for instance, has ordered a remote controlled red car, just like the one I used to have when I was little.
I could probably insist with dolls (a silent one) or try with a cooking set, but I have to admit I am addicted to all that jumping and screaming of joy every time my son gets something with wheels. Whenever he has a new auto, he carries it everywhere, he feeds it, take it along when he brushes his teeth of goes to potty and of course sleeps with it...
Thinking it again, where can I buy dresses for cars?
And now that Christmas is coming, like any other good feminist, I have to make sure that my son's presents comply with my non-sexist-toys policy. Last year, for example, I got him a doll. When he pressed the doll's belly and she started crying my son looked at me with a mixture of fear, surprise and uneasiness that meant clearly something along the lines "what is wrong with her? Do something! Make her stop! Take her away!" I remember seeing that same expression somewhere else when Daniel was a baby.
Anyway, what the hell was I thinking? Genetics, girl, genetics! Myself, I never played with dolls as a child. My mother used to ask what were my dolls doing, and I would invariably answer "they are sleeping". My father, of course, was thrilled to provide scalextric, legos and mecanos for me.
Is it maybe that my lack of maternal instinct is so obvious I passed it on to my child? Or is it another of those instances in which life, meaning Daniel, makes ones ideas and values shake? It is to be expected, isn't it? Life gives liberal children to conservative parents, and children ready to comply with gender stereotypes to feminist mothers. Couldn't he at least like stuffed animals?
In any case, overall, I should probably consider myself lucky. If my son asks for a tool kit I could give it to him without going too far from my ideas, but if I had a daughter and she would ask for a pink vacumm-cleaner I would be forced to tell her that Santa had to keep it to clean Rudolf's shit.
Things as they are, my feminism is limited nowadays to after dinner speeches and buying pink leotards to Daniel from time to time. And I'm afraid we will find Ray Mcqueen an several of his buddies under the tree this year. Grandma, for instance, has ordered a remote controlled red car, just like the one I used to have when I was little.
I could probably insist with dolls (a silent one) or try with a cooking set, but I have to admit I am addicted to all that jumping and screaming of joy every time my son gets something with wheels. Whenever he has a new auto, he carries it everywhere, he feeds it, take it along when he brushes his teeth of goes to potty and of course sleeps with it...
Thinking it again, where can I buy dresses for cars?
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