“In our Daddy Issues series, a father of a young daughter seeks guidance, hoping to raise a strong woman. He looks to you, dear readers, for insight.
After last week's post about pretty pink princesses, I waged a minor war on the color pink.
And by war, I mean skirmish. OK, fine, maybe...tactical maneuver
So I was walking home from school with my 4-year-old daughter, and we were talking about an upcoming snow vacation and the need to find the proper clothes.
‘Pink,’ she told me, ‘I need a snowsuit that's pink.’
‘What if they only have blue?’ I asked, ‘Or yellow?’
‘We'll let's at least try for pink,’ she said.
Usually I buy whatever happens to be on sale…To be honest, I had wondered if this sort of frugality might rub off, if the idea might somehow break through that appearance wasn't as important as function or price…
…Hearing my daughter go on and on about pink mittens and pink snow boots, I decided to push back a tiny bit. Now, I know plenty of girls who went through a ‘pink phase’ and came out of it loving green. I wasn't concerned this was a life-altering issue (although I did read ‘Cinderella Ate My Daughter’ the day it came out this week and was appalled, aghast and mildly amused by the evolution of pink and what it might portend). I was curious how deep pink had gotten its hooks into her.
‘Suppose,’ I said, ‘There were only two choices of snow boots. Only two. And you only got to pick one.’
She nodded and waited for more, while I explained that while one pair was pink, the boots fit so poorly that it hurt her feet to the point she couldn't wear them for more than two seconds. The other pair, I told her, was blue — and they fit perfectly and made it feel like walking on clouds.
‘So which one do you want? The pink hurty one or the blue comfortable one?’
She didn't even think it over.
‘Pink,’ she said.
Those are some big, pink hooks.”