Pink is for Boys… Or Boy, Anyway.
Last night I’m at the store, buying a new bike for Adelaide as she’s long outgrown her last one and the big neighborhood 4th of July parade is coming up. (On that note, be sure to check out the Columbia Daily Tribune’s 2007 “Our Town” cover with AEB’s photo from last year’s event.) Anyway, I’m at the checkout line, rolling a pink bike through the aisle.
A nice couple in front of me turns to see the spectacle, lady says “Aww, that’s cute. Someone’s going to be a happy girl tomorrow.” I respond that yeah, and hopefully that works. I’m afraid that we’ll end up with one happy and one sad with me only bringing one bike home.
A few minutes later she mentions that hopefully the kids can share. I agree and tell her that I’m hoping Adelaide is happy with her new bike and “he is happy with her old pink bike”. At this point, the husband finally becomes interested. “Did you say ‘he’?”. Yep. It’s either her pink bike or her pink tricycle, he can have whichever one he likes.
“At some point, we’re going to have to change colors,” he responds. I agree, but then add that as long as he puts down Adelaide’s purse and takes off her dress-up shoes before he gets on the pink bike, I’m really OK with it. For some reason, that put them over the edge.
Thankfully, I didn’t even mention that Jack has his toenails painted at the moment. I did, however, try to save his pride (or mine?) by mentioning the 4-year old boy that came up to me at the McDonald’s play area a month ago or so and said, “Hi, my name is Mary Poppins!” I think they thought I was making that up.
Fast forward to this morning, I come downstairs to find Adelaide and Jack excitedly looking at the new bike. Adelaide has her “ballerinatard” on, Jack is wearing her sparkly pink high-heeled sandals.
(It was all in good fun, the people at the store thought the whole thing was funny. And Jack is conveniently 36.5 inches tall and 36 pounds, so he can take any grief he might get from those less secure in their manliness.)