When kids are little, gender is not much of a thing. It can be almost impossible to tell whether a baby is a boy or a girl, a lot of their toys can be for either gender, and at young ages their activities can be pretty similar. They all cry, they all poop, they all like to shake rattles and eat.
But Alex has been a boy for a while now.
Sometimes he greatly enjoys the “girly” toys. He loves the baby dolls at the toy library because he can point at them and call them “baby.” Sometimes? He picks them up and gives them a hug. But after he hugs the baby doll, he is going to throw that thing as far and as hard as he possibly can. Or bang it again and again on a hard surface. Or try to tear it apart.
After his destruction of the baby doll, he may enjoy pushing around the super pink baby doll stroller. He loves that thing. But after he has pushed it for a bit, he decides that it is the perfect storage space. He piles everything he can find into it. And then he tries to pick the whole thing up and carry it around the room, piling it on top of something else.
When we are at home, sometimes he is very sweet and cuddly with me. He will run over from whatever he is doing just to get a kiss. On the rare occasion that he is like this I cherish it. He puts his head on my chest, says, “mama” in his very sweet high pitched voice, asks for kisses, and gives me a nice pat. But then he makes sure that I know that he is big and strong, a boy through and through, and he hits me. Or bites me. Or growls. Or runs away and starts saying “vroom!” again and again while he plays with his trucks and cars.
So, maybe I should train Alex to growl when someone mistakes him for a girl when we are out. Or maybe I should just get his hair cut again.