His love of pink is ending. Actually, I think it has completely ended. Date of death coincides with his first day of pre-K. I do not believe this is a coincidence.
Friday morning I started assembling his lunch and putting it in the plaid magenta lunch tote he has been in love with for over five months. He came charging into the kitchen and exclaimed, “Mom! Wait! I do NOT want that pink lunch bag anymore. I want red.”
I explained if he wanted a lunch today it would need to be encased in the magenta lunch tote. He sighed a sigh that began from the tip of his toes and finally declared, “fine.”
On the drive to school we discussed his afternoon playdate. I told him I would be bringing some snacks and water to the playground. “Mom! Do NOT bring me my water in a pink cup!”
He went on to explain how he did not like pink anymore. “No more pink things, mama, ok? No more.”
The way he said it was amusing, as if he lived in a home or environment swathed in pink. As if pink was being imposed upon him.
His love for pink happened, I am guessing, much like his now unlove for pink – suggestion. A year ago he had not expressed a preference for any color, he enjoyed them all the same. Then he noticed some of the kids in his class liked the color pink, specifically the pink popsicle flavor. With so many kids clamoring for the pink pop the status of pink shot up and the next thing you know we just love pink.
W’s affection for the color was genuine. He delighted in seeing unusual pink things – pink monster trucks! That his love for the color went instantly to disgust is what makes me sad. I can understand suddenly being “meh” about a color, but it’s like one faucet turned off when he turned another on.
He is also trying out phrases like this, “only boys can do that, Mama.” or “that’s a show just for girls.” This seems totally normal for his age. He’s figuring out the way of the world and being able to define things in absolutes must be comforting in the beginning. Like sorting marbles. Of course I don’t believe in absolutes so I like to test his theories. When he proclaims, “only BOYS can play with cars, Mama” I nod and “mmm hhhmmm” and then I respond with, “what about me? I play cars with you.” He usually amends his statement to something a tad more inclusive, “only boys and MAMAS can play with cars.” So then I ask him about his Lolly. Surely he enjoys playing cars with her.
Later Friday afternoon I brought a bag of W’s Rescue-bot Transformers to the playground for his play date. Some girls from his class were at the playground and curious about the cars and W very proudly showed them how they transform from robots to vehicles. In no time everyone in the playground, boys AND girls, were playing with the toys. Elaborate races around the slide, sneak attacks under the tubes, and lots of rescuing.
I was a good sport and did not drop an, “I told you so” at W on the way home. But hopefully he realized, even if for that afternoon, there are no absolutes when it comes with toys. There are only opportunities. If you don’t invite the girls to play cars then, no, girls wont play cars with you. Unless they are your Mama.