boy colors. again.

The Kidling has, on myriad occasions, tried to get me to understand her conceptualization of gendered colors. And I have, on each of those occasions, pretended I had no idea what she was talking about. I asked for her to explain it to me. I played dumb.

Every time.

You see, it all began years ago when The Kidling told me that blue is a boy color and pink is a girl color. Way too early. Like, at three years old. So I, you guessed it, played dumb.

“Interesting,” I would ask. “How are colors boys or girls?”

And she would get so mad!

“They just are!” was a common reply.

Solidly reasoned. Sign this kid up for law school.

So I pushed. And pushed. Until I got the answer I wanted.

“But what makes a creature a girl? What makes another creature a boy?” I questioned further.

When I finally received an anatomically correct response from The Kidling, she just got irritated and huffed off, as if I couldn’t possibly be saved from my own ignorance.

Which is probably true.

I thought we were past this. At the very least, I thought The Kidling had given up on me. Then yesterday, she spied the clothes I had set out for her to wear to school and requested a different cardigan. I could not possibly care less what she wears to school,* and I was preparing to agree when she said of her sweater,

The Kidling: That’s a boy color.
The Mama: Why? It is red!? How is red a boy color?
The Kidling: (stubbornly) I just know it is. Boy colors are dark and wrinkly.

This conversation brought to you by The Mama (whose favorite color is black) and The Kidling (whose favorite color is… wait for it… blue. go figure).

_________

* Not quite true. But close.

direction

Another gorgeous September Iowa day, another dinner enjoyed out-of-doors. This time, our backyard was the venue and the fare, though tasty, didn’t hold a candle to the one consumed Wednesday.

Now typically Alice shows her appreciation of a beautiful day by mirroring what she has seen The Mama do time and time again. Expected, right? That’s what children do, right? Well, of course, but it is particularly adorable when said child:

1. Speaks in a scratchy contralto;
2. (and a borderline speech impediment);
3. Sighs appropriately; and
4. Is Alice.

In other words, when we step outside on a beautiful day, The Kidling can often be heard saying, “(sigh) What a lovely day!” or “(sigh) It’s so nice to be outside on such a goooorgeous day!” or “Let’s eat outside!” So though she may not be one for sharing, she does do gratitude well. And, you know, everything else.

Just saying.

So where was I? Oh, yes, a beautiful evening in Iowa. The Kidling suggested eating outdoors, and The Parents willingly obliged. Whist eating our dinner, Alice spotted an airplane overhead (as opposed to underfoot? I could probably save my readers a lot of hassle if I didn’t feel the need to state the obvious and use excessive quantities of adjectives, adverbs, and qualifiers). Following the plane and its contrails with her little kidling eyes, Alice observed, “Look! It’s heading for your hair salon!”

Of course it is, dear. That entire airplane full of folks is in dire need of haircuts, pinch braids, and dreadlocks.

my brain

A couple of days before Alice’s birthday, she was bopping her way down the stairs with both feet at the same time. Not exactly hopping. More of a slidey-bounce thing. She bopped her way down the first two (carpeted) steps before stopping on the (hard wood) landing to reassess.

(pointing to the steps)

“If I fall down there, then I would crack my head open. If I crack my head open my brain will come out. So maybe I should just step down there.”

Ah, yes. Moments of clarity in an otherwise quirkily-rationalized* four-year old world. You make The Mama proud, Alice.

* Of course I know this is a hideous compound modifier. And of course I know “quirkily” is not a word. Again, though, I sacrifice accuracy for rhythmic flow. Do you really prefer, “a four-year old’s world that is rationalized in a quirky manner” ? Of course not. And neither do I.