Boys will be boys. I’ve always heard that saying, but until I owned one of these little creatures myself I never thought that much about it. We’ve always pushed for gender neutrality as our kids have grown/continue to grow. We want them to pursue whatever pastime interests them, vs. “Now Stella, you play with the dolls, and Felix, here’s a nice football.” To that end, Stella has never been into dolls that much. But man, does she throw a mean tea party!
My son, however, in true boy fashion adores anything with wheels. And if it doesn’t have wheels, it ought to, damn it. Santa brought him a ton of little cheap cars in his stocking. Santa got a deal from Amazon for $9.99 for a whole bag, that savvy shopper. You can imagine the quality. Still, they’ve been a hit. Especially the tiny ones. My son peeled the tires off of all of them, and has since carried them around constantly trying to affix his “wheels” to whatever he can find: swords, mermaids, sippy cups. When my mom was still here at Xmas, she thought they were rubber black olives from Stella’s tea set. Yeah. There are that many and the size and color are a good match.
Anyway. He’s gotten really inventive at this whole wheelification of his world, combining it with his passion for corn. Several times now I’ve busted him taking his cobs and trying to join them somehow, all the while making the car sound. You know what sound I’m talking about. I’m almost tempted to serve him a smorgasbord of round food just to see what happens: pinwheel pasta, olives, Ritz Crackers, Oreos. He would eat nothing. It would all be wheelified. He’s either going to be an engineer or a grease monkey when he grows up.