It’s time to pick a winner, for the FIRST contest where one of you won my friend Chris Mancini’s book: Pacify Me. The winner, per Random Number Generator/Comment-Thingy, was: Chris in PHX! The contest for Stef’s book runs until next week, so get a MOVE ON, yo. (you don’t have to be my friend on Savvy Source, just join my group and comment over HERE on the contest post.)
Now I’m going to have to start buying stuff to give you guys because that was fun. Dave is groaning somewhere.
When I was in college, there was this big thing about gender roles and gender stratification in children and how we shouldn’t limit tiny minds by dressing boys in all blue and girls in all pink. Or buying little girls get in the damn kitchen and make us some motherfucking pie while we buy our sons mini-work benches and cars.
It makes sense.
And both Ben and Alex have dolls and a small dollhouse, and Alex had pink binkies (while he liked binkies) and if he’d had a preference for pink clothes, well, I’d have let him wear them. The only reason I dressed him in blue was because I got a little tired of telling people–even in head to toe blue–that he was a boy, not a girl. For some reason, they assumed he was a girl. Poor kid.
For Christmas this year, I’d bought my daughter this (for anyone who doesn’t want to click, it’s a toddler to preschooler kitchen set) not because she’s a girl or anything, but because I know that they’ll ALL go wild for it. Trust me when I tell you it’s not any sort of “women belong in the kitchen” because I can barely be bothered to order takeout. I live on cereal and coffee mostly.
Well, I’d ventured to the seventh circle of hell to try and buy it (see above link) but the only one that they had in stock was so janky that I ordered it online AND PAID SHIPPING, which normally makes my cheap heart hurt so much that I will go to any lengths to avoid it. It came in the mail yesterday in the box that cheerfully shows precisely what’s inside and, it being Ass Cold here now, I brought it inside with the help of my eldest yesterday.
(by “help of my eldest” I mean that I directed him to carry it inside. Heh)
I left it in the hallway to warm up before bringing it up to my bedroom for a couple of minutes.
In that time, my two boys swarmed the box like sharks, BEGGING me to open it and making me swear up and down that they would have the opportunity to play with it. I explained that they’d certainly be able to play once Christmas came, and they accepted that before they scampered off, wrestling hand-over-foot like a couple of puppies.
I cannot tell where one ends and the other begins.
So, while I’m certainly fucking them up when I laugh during sex talks and while I bare I my soul on The Internet, it’s nice to know that sometimes I do right by my kids.
I need more hilarious photoblogging ideas, yo.
*What that “something” is is to be determined.
**Also, Ben can live with here forever and be my cook.