A few days ago I was contemplating Hannah's utter devotion to all things girl (a result, I believe, of her own inherent likes - not any overt or unusual persuasion on our parts as parents) when I had a revelation.
There is something about that devotion, admiration, and adoration of the "feminine" that is liberating - and dare I say, feminist.
It is during this age that both boys and girls consider it the highest insult to be called the opposite gender. But somewhere in grade school (drawing from my own experience), that starts to change. There is a point at which manly qualities become the desired traits, and feminine ones, detractors. A girl will balk at the notion that she "throws like a girl", and take offense when she's told to "quit being such a girl." Clearly, boys hate those phrases, too. In junior high and high school it becomes worse - our most abhorred curse words are feminine terms and both sexes are appalled to be referred to as such. No one wants to be a bitch or well - you get my drift.
But at any time past preschool, if you refer to a girl or a woman as having manly qualities (saving, obviously, her physical appearance) and you're complimenting her. Go ahead, call me "ballsy" and you'll see.
So there's something very precious and admirable about that preschool age when, for girls, being a girl is the ultimate compliment; and for boys, being a boy is the best thing ever. And for mothers of girls, it's one of the few times in our relationships when we enjoy pure glorification of our own femininity. Your three-year-old doesn't see your flaws - particularly the imaginary ones you've assigned yourself. She sees you as the representative of all things woman, and therefore, perfect. She wants to be you; wants to do what you do; wants to emulate every behavior she sees in you. She wants to look, walk, talk, smell like you.
Rather than worry about whether or not I've given her enough opportunities to break free of social conventions and norms, I think I'll try to revel in these fleeting years. To admire their girl-y-ness for the compliment it is and quit trying to devalue it. Because who's to say I'm right and they're wrong? They will have the rest of their lives to struggle with being just feminine enough.
So, the next time one of my girls wants to paint her fingernails three times in one day, well... oh, who am I kidding, I 'll let her do it once. But still. I'll turn up my nose in a symbol of universal sisterhood and say "Eeeeew! Boys are stinky!" the very next time their daddy rips a big one. 'Cause they are. And girls are not.
