Cerin Amroth

A few times in the past few months I’ve gently floated the idea with Ella that I read her The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  After carefully examining the title and the cover she has always demurred, the chief source of her objection being the fact that there’s a witch in it.  (Ella’s unusually resistant to the sort of things that keep other kids her age up at night, but she has two morbid fixations: witches and robbers.)

“We can read it when I’m 7″ is now her standard reply.

And then, the other day, I came to what for me was a startling realization:  I’m not going to read that book to her any time soon, even if she comes around.

To explain why I have to back up a bit.  There is very little that is girly-girl about Ella.  She is 0% princess.  She dislikes the color pink.  I can count the number of times she has worn a dress on one hand — and they have all been under duress.  I’m proud of her for knowing who she is and what she likes — it’s the misconceptions at the margins that we have to struggle against.

Example:  We were at a sporting goods store the other day looking for a kid-size tennis racket for her.  Predictably, almost all the selection of small-sized rackets were colored in pink and/or pastels and features the Williams sisters on the sleeves.  And Ella would have none of those.  Thankfully there was also a single orange and red racket that fit her well.  But while we were looking she said grumpily:  “Why are all these pink rackets here, daddy?  Tennis is for boys.”  She’s said the same thing about soccer.  Despite our frequent protestations and our explanations of all the many things that girls can be or do, the neat gender stereotypes she’s picked up — being in preschool has definitely accentuated them — are frustratingly resilient.

Her dislike of the princess aesthetic: not a problem.  Her mapping of that aesthetic onto her entire gender:  problem.

So, when thinking about books to read to her, movies to see, whatever, I am always on the lookout for the proverbial “strong female characters” that she can identify with, but if they come with too much pink or frills she’s going to tune out right away.  She’s always liked Kiki well enough, despite the fact that she wears a dress.  Satsuki and Chihiro fare a little better, as has Chance.  In her mind right now, though, they’re all distant seconds to Spider-Man as far as role models go.

In this context, consider the Narnia books.  C.S. Lewis was a master fantasist, God bless ‘im, but he was a bit of a traditionalist when it came to the gender roles.  And while a nuanced reader might be able to write off some of the stereotyped aspects of Susan and Lucy while embracing the positive elements, Ella right now would be liable instead to write them off because they’re girls.

So I’ll be happy to wait until she’s 7, and maybe even a little longer.

This past weekend, Eric and Rebecca (dear friends from college) came to visit. We all had great fun with them – but especially Ella and Dominic. We let Ella play hookie on Friday, so we could enjoy the warm weather in Shenandoah National Forest. To her credit, she was gravely disappointed and resisted the idea. Once we got out there, though, she was glad we went. The kids were great troupers throughout the weekend – allowing the grown-ups to play several games and tolerating late dinners at restaurants two nights in a row. I guess there’s nothing like fawning attention from 4 adults to make you happy. Here are several pictures from the weekend’s activities.

Ella’s naps are rare, so times when both kids are napping at the same time are even rarer.  But after a very busy weekend, yesterday both kids collapsed in their beds at about the same time after lunch.  I went down to the basement and turned on the baby monitor.  As a result I could only hear the following scene, not see it, but that also meant it unfolded without any consciousness on their part of my listening in.

<An hour or so after they went to sleep, a rustling and creaking of the crib.>

D:  Ella?  ELLA?  Eeeelllllllaaaaaaaaaa . . .

<Silence, but then a sound of footsteps and then a thud as the back of the rocking chair in D’s room bumps against the wall.>

E:  Hey there buddy!

D:  Book?

<Ella then reads her rendition of The Grouchy Ladybug from the rocking chair while Dominic listens from his crib.>

D:  More?

E:  Here, D, you can read some by yourself.

<The sound of books being yanked off D’s bookshelf and dumped in his crib.>

It was a full half-hour later that Dominic started calling out for me, and Ella started shouting “Dad!  Dominic’s awaaaaake!”  I came upstairs to find a couple dozen books piled up in the crib and another pile of Ella’s books stacked by the rocking chair.  They had both been looking quietly at books on their own all that time.

This morning the trend continued — Dominic climbed up on Ella’s bed and she “read” to him from her Justice League comic book.  Fun stuff.

That title could certainly describe Nate and me. In this case, it describes Dominic – for a few minutes, at least. On Friday, he woke up with a dry diaper, so I excitedly asked if he wanted to sit on the potty. He said, “Yeah, yeah.”

I put his smaller seat on top of the toilet. As soon as he sat down, he asked for some books. We read a couple of them, and I went to his room to get some more. While I was gone, I heard a few tinkles go in the toilet. I immediately rushed back and praised him for his success. He was excited to get off the toilet, flush it, and say, “Bye bye.”

He then was even more excited about running around as a totally naked baby. I let him and Ella jump on her bed, then I put another diaper on him. I went back to the bathroom to get ready for work. After a few minutes, I poked my head back in her room and found him sitting on the floor looking at books. I went back to the bathroom to finish up.

After I was done, I went back to get the two of them dressed. That’s when I noticed that Dominic was sitting on the floor totally naked. He had removed his diaper – after filling it with pee, thank goodness – and then went to sit on the floor with naked buns. As soon as he realized I knew what was going on, he stood up with an impish grin on his face and stomped his feet. I have a feeling it’s going to be another summer of potty training for the Bruinooge household.