Smashing gender stereotypes

At Costco this weekend, we needed to pick up some pull-ups for our not-yet-dry-at-night toddler.

Iver pointed to the "pink ones" with Minnie Mouse and the "lady doctor" (I am not familiar with Doc McStuffins but she's on there) and said "I want those ones."

I hesitated.

I wondered why he was drawn to that box, instead of the blue-boxed Cars/Simba "boy" pull-ups right next to it (which he currently uses).

I thought extremely carefully before I opened my mouth, contemplating the important-seeming message I wanted to send to my very young, impressionable, three-year-old son.

"Are you sure you will wear these?" I asked (Iver is known to be a bit impulsive, and I was really not concerned about his choice of color or design but rather about having a bulk quantity of 124 unused pull-ups if he changed his mind later). "They may be pink inside."

"I'm sure," he replied.

So we bought them.

I am proud to have a son who loves building towers and knocking them down, playing with his tool-bench, balls, riding bikes, and games of chase, but also who adores reading, singing, music, and art. He would be welcome to play with dolls and any other toy he chooses, without judgment about whether it would be "gender appropriate."

I am proud to have a son who is spirited, passionate, who shows emotion easily, and who is loving and cuddly and sweet, and to whom I will never say "boys don't cry" nor "boys don't volunteer 'I love yous'."

I am proud to have a son who knows that women can be doctors. Or the president. And that dads can do the laundry, cook, pack lunches, and take care of kids just as well as mommies can.

And I vow to raise boys who live and contribute to a world in which it is perfectly ok for them to choose and wear pink pull-ups.