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When my son Harry was a baby, people were always wanting to give him chocolate. I couldn’t understand it. As far as I was concerned, he was pure. He’d never had any junk food. He didn’t want it. He didn’t know what he was missing. I thought about his pristine, brand new body and I didn’t want to introduce anything less than perfect.

Now he’s four and I feel the same way about his mind. But in the same way that the first Chocolate Button (shoved into Harry’s mouth by my uncle) opened the floodgates to a full-blown chocoholism, Harry starting school seems to have been the beginning of the end of his untainted mind.

Blue Moon

As we left school the other day – and even though it was still daylight – I spotted the moon. This has long been one of Harry’s favorite things. He likes to shout about how it’s the sun’s turn and the moon should be asleep until it’s dark. Or rather, it used to be one of his favorite things. That day, when I pointed it out to him, he said, both dismissively and with some anger, “The moon is flippin’ stupid!”

My eyes filled with tears. “Who said that?” I asked. “Thomas.” I managed to prevent myself from saying, “Well I think Thomas is flippin’ stupid” and contented myself with a “Well I don’t think that’s a very nice thing to say. I think the moon is magical.” Harry shrugged.

Just for Girls?

Only a few weeks ago, we’d be watching TV together and, during the advertisements, Harry would comment on the toys that he wanted. He tended to go for the more nurturing and gentle toys than the crashing and burning side of things. (You know what I’m trying to avoid saying, don’t you?) But now he points out certain things – Disney DVDs, Barbies, cuddly toys – and says, “That’s just for girls!”

No, I tell him, nothing is just for girls and nothing is just for boys. Both boys and girls can play with whatever they want to play with. But I know it’s too late. I know that, at the age of four, he’s learned that the nurturing toys are the girls’ domain and the noise toys are for boys.

But the thing that concerns me even more is the way he says, “That’s just for girls.” He sounds mildly disgusted. I know he’s picked this up from elsewhere, but it still worries me. At four years old, he’s already being taught that girls’ stuff is less worthwhile than boys’? (We’ve actually done quite well to make it to four – a couple of years ago, one of his preschool friends refused to eat some Barbie cake because it was “for girls”.)

Letting Go…

He’s now away from me for thirty hours per week and I have to accept that. I just wish I could be there to step in when someone is trying to crush his sense of wonder or when he’s being told things that I believe are just plain wrong.

[Photo by ||!prliignore0||]