The recent warm weather and burst of spring showers had prompted my son into a desire for puddle jumping. Of course, the rubber boots he donned last year were far from fitting onto his now three-year-old toes, so off to the store we went to get a new pair.
Not thinking and trying to multi-task, Dad came along and so did little sister. With the plan to get groceries, a baby shower gift and a new pair of boots, we had to visit three different stores. Food was first, as it keeps the toddler snacking and amused, and Dad likes the illusion of getting things done as he fills the cart and checks items off his invisible list.
With our double stroller holding our coats, diaper bag, water bottles, wet wipes, rattle for the little one and new Dora video for the bigger one, Dad and I had to meander as best we could onto our next errand. Of course, he has the cart with all of the food, 25 rolls of toilet paper, Kleenex boxes, bleach, diapers and even more wipes, so we proceeded like a convoy.
I knew exactly what I was getting for a gift, so Dad stood outside with the crew as I zoomed in to quickly check off another thing on my list. Of course, the store was busy and the sales girls did not really notice as I stood patiently (yet impatiently) waiting to pay. Finally, I asked for help as I heard my baby start to fuss. Dad is never good with the fussing, he usually lets it go for too long and it passes the point where you can amuse her again.
I paid as fast as I could, glancing back at my husband and son eating Japanese oranges, my husband oblivious to the fusses as my son flicks stringy bits of orange at his sister.
With two errands down and one to go, I amused the baby with a granola wrapper crinkling in her hands, then made the dreaded mistake of removing my son from the stroller as we took over the small space in the shoe store.
On the shelf I saw a perfect pair of navy blue rubber boots. Dad had his cell in his ear as I looked for my son’s size and told him to remove his old shoes. The two seconds when I had my back turned resulted in my son running to a different shelf and, with the thrill only a three your old can exude, he shouted, uninhibited, “Mom, I want these ones!”
Happily, I turned to see him holding a lovely pair of Dora the Explorer rubber boots, all in pink with lavender soles. A moment passed before I could respond, while he kicked off his shoes and wiggled into the boots.
Now I know that his attraction is to Dora, the famous cartoon character every kids loves, and these boots represent adventure, friendship and exploring. But the boots just happened to be flamingo pink. I immediately and without thinking pointed to the Diego boots (denim blue and orange)–they are more masculine, of course.
“No, these one Mommy,” he insisted, as he stood to admire them in the mirror.
It was one of those moments where one has to think before they speak. How do I say no to something he so obviously loves, and what is my reasoning for not allowing his choice? How can I say it is the wrong colour, or it does not look right, when the smile on his face is what every parents wants? My pause went unnoticed as my son put his old shoes in the stroller and walked to the register to pay. As he stood waiting for me to hand him some money, I stared, unsure and confused if I should do something to try and change his mind.
Then I thought to myself: What the heck, why not? He’s three. Who’ll care? His friends are too small to make fun of him and if he is confident enough to wear them, then I should be confident enough to let him.
All of my childhood issues over my own parent’s judgments and rules crept to the surface. Then and there, I decided that I would not teach my son gender labelling and would not diminish his confidence.
I reached for my wallet, now willing to pay.
There was a momentous song playing in my head, and it came to a screeching halt as my husband, now off the phone, asked me, “What the hell are you doing?”
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Until next time,
JB
Tags:
kids clothing, kids activewear, pink kids clothing
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