But Julie herself knows I hate when things get sectioned off into "boy things" vs. "girl things," so this is hard!
One thing I know for sure is girl clothes are WAY cuter. The Children's Place is your friend.
Which I guess brings me back round to the "boy things" vs. "girl things."
We were out with a friend who has an older girl and a younger boy this weekend. The older girl got a toy at the gift shop - a unicorn with pink wings and a long flowing tail. My friend was kind enough to buy Declan a black pony, which he loved, but I was fully expecting him to want the unicorn with pink wings and a long flowing tail, because that's what his friend got and most of Declan's friends are girls and that's what he knows. But surprisingly, he loved his black pony. When it was the younger brother's turn, guess what he wanted? The unicorn with pink wings and a long flowing tail! We showed him some alternatives, but he wanted it - certainly because that's what his sister had. But my friend never once said "that's a girls toy." She finally relented and told him they would have to write his name on his, to tell them apart. The older sister started to protest, started to use the "g-toy" word, and their mom hushed her and said, "He gets to choose what he wants."
But you know this, Julie. You and I have talked about it. But I guess my main point is, how surprised I was with the pressure to separate boy from girl in so many different ways - and that it comes at you from many different angles. And sure, I assume you get this as a parent of a girl, too - but as a parent of a boy, it feels different. Girls have time to be weak, have time to be silly, have time to explore every little fantasy. Boys feel rushed into little manhood.
But, in truth, this post isn't about giving you advice, Julie. Because the mom in this photo already knows all this. The mom in this photo listens to her kids and helps them through the pitfalls of childhood with good sense and good humor.
So. Many warm congratulations to you, Kyle, Tacy and CJ for the expected arrival of the latest (and last!?) Babygoosemouse. Let me know when he is ready for portraits.
P.S. Put a diaper over his you-know-what while changing him. You'll thank me later.