The big blue at the baby market
THE woman in front of me was setting me straight.
"Oh no that's blue, and I have a girl. That wouldn't work.” She would not spend $1 to buy a barely used cotton suit in baby blue.
This was not the deal of the century. It was a second-hand baby market where I had stepped in to mind the stall as my bouncing toddler paused to drink her weight in milk from my wife.
My darling had stopped mid-guzzle after a busy morning of gnawing on cupcakes and ignoring a now-browning banana.
It was her blue suit that was up for sale.
Am I an extremist for buying multi-coloured things for my daughter? She's two and I buy her singlets whether they are marked "boys'' or "girls'' because what the hell is the difference at this age?
Today she wears a dark blue shirt with a tiny milk carton on it. Tomorrow she will cry and yell and scream until I dress her in a sparkling tutu and Minnie Mouse gumboots. She's every two-year-old.
If she was a Matthew instead of Maddy, would I step in to make sure she only wore masculine colours? "No pinks or flowers or sparkles for my little man,'' I'd proudly declare while puffing out my chest.
Should I be scared that my daughter doesn't always want to wear a pretty dress?
Would I put my foot down if hypothetical Matthew wanted a pink frilly dress, sparkly shoes and to strut about the house?
I hate that our children are the new weapons in politics.
My little girl wearing blue is a surprise and a little boy wanting to wear a dress or a tutu is a victim of some broad left-wing, gender-bending conspiracy.
Back to my captious customer. She put it to me like this:
"You wouldn't let a little boy wear pink now, would you?”
"I wouldn't mind,” I said. "If they're happy I'm happy.”
She nodded, smiled and walked away.
A moment later I slipped a bright blue bow on my daughter's head. And she threw it to the ground.