"Boys" toys and "girls" toys - has anything moved on from 1945?

I always assumed that toys had changed since the parenting guide Modern Mothercraft was published in 1945. They've certainly got more buttons, lights, and the ability to make more noise. They're much cheaper comparatively due to parallel importing, and often more poorly made. After looking at the below chart from Mothercraft, though, I was surprised to find most of my son's favourite toys making an appearance. Toys may be shinier now, but it seems that my son and the Baby Boomers enjoyed banging, building, biking, and vrooming just as much as each other.

Something else hasn't changed since 1945: the gender segregation of toys. The 1945 publication isn't very subtle about boys' toys and girls' toys. For example, it says: "We watch two year-old Tommy busily filling his little cart or bucket with gravel, or hammering two blocks together, and three-year old Jane gravely bathing her doll, and feel we have a preview of their future adult life." Nice.

It's a shame that we haven't come very far since 1945. Toys today are clearly divided into boys' and girls' sections, with children getting told by society and marketers very early on that they are only supposed to play with certain things depending on their gender. While campaigns such as Let Toys Be Toys have made some progress in raising awareness and changing how sections of toys stores are signposted, we still have a long way to go.

Maybe in some ways things were even better in 1945. At least then toys like blocks, tricycles and art supplies weren't separated by gender: blocks were blocks, not blocks for girls and blocks for boys. There was no way my Depression-era grandparents would have spent money on something only marketed for children of one gender, as these toys were expected to last for a number of kids, irrespective of whether they were boys or girls. What we have today seems to be a bit of a catch-22: because toys are comparatively cheaper, they are aggressively marketed in ways to make us buy more.

Now I'm not saying that girls and boys don't have different play preferences, because many do. My son is obsessed with diggers and bulldozers, interests which have been completely driven by him. What I object to is dividing toys by gender that really don't need it: bikes, blocks, toy phones, and scissors; toys that function exactly the same, regardless of whether they are pink or blue. Or, sending the message to our children that only boys play with cars, and only girls play with dolls. My son's favourite toy is a doll, and it makes me sad to think that one day he might learn that boys aren't supposed to play with them.

After all, if this continues, what are we really telling our children about what their future adult life ought to be like? That all of their hobbies and interests they may yet develop are all somehow predetermined and limited by whether or not they have a "Y" chromosome? Almost 70 years after Mothercraft's initial publication, when it comes to gender and toys, maybe it is finally time to move on.

Let's stop being judgmental about what other people call their kids

Imagine a world where people who liked chocolate icecream assumed that all of the people who preferred strawberry were more likely to be criminals, or a world where people who liked mint were considered more likely to fail at school. Where butterscotch icecream shouldn't be eaten because it was common, and choosing vanilla means you'd make a good politician. No? That sounds silly, right? Most of us simply accept that different people have different tastes, and move on. Why, then, do we throw judgement like that around when it comes to naming our children? 

I used to have so many secret judgmental thoughts about what other people called their kids, I'm lucky the judgy-pants didn't give me a permanent wedgie. "You called them what?" I'd think. "You used what spelling? Isn't that far too modern/trendy/weird/popular/boring? What are you thinking?" At some point, though, it dawned on me that I was at the receiving end of as much judgement as I dished out. My daughter has a top-10 name that is often called too "popular", and my son's name is so unusual 95% of people we meet have never heard it before. If I'm to believe everything people say on the subject, my daughter will go through life resenting that she is one of a dozen girls in her year with her name, and my son will never get job interviews. Apparently I've also committed a cardinal sin by using alliteration, and a middle name that is technically a "nickname" rather than a "real name". I realised that I was the judgee as much as the judge, saw how ridiculous it all was, and decided to discard my judgy-pants for good. 

Since seeing the light and reforming my judgmental ways, I've become even more aware of how downright mean people can be about names. When we judge other people's naming choices, what we're really saying is "everyone should be like me!" Or, we see other, different naming choices as some sort of criticism of our own decisions.  Which is silly, really. If you like strawberry icecream and I like chocolate, it isn't personal. It just means we have different tastes. 

There are also nasty undercurrents to the judgement which is often thinly-veiled racism or class-ism in action.  If my son's curriculum vitae is rejected when he's older because of his name, that's saying more about whoever is reading it than him as he has a Maori name, in recognition of his heritage. If people who aren't English are made to feel scared to give their children names in their native languages because they may not get jobs one day, that's only the tip of the iceberg of a wider problem. 

When we meet new adults, we don't usually give much thought to their names. It's not like when I'm introduced to a Marlene, my first thought is "I don't think we can be friends, because I know what all Marlenes are like. That's a naughty name.  If your name was Magda, on the other hand, I'd totally give you the time of day. That's a good name for a lawyer or doctor." Why, then, do we make these judgments about children? All children are different, and have many different facets to their personalities and identities. It's unfair to make a set of assumptions about a person's being based on a few syllables, and we as the adults ought to take the lead here. So, let's stop the judgement, and respect other people's naming decisions a little bit more. Or, at the very least, be more consistent with the judgement and start getting into a tizzy about people who chose a different flavour of ice cream to you. 

5 ways we should be more like toddlers

Ah, toddlers. Those little beings given to us to keep us on our toes. Like many other parents, I spend a lot of time scratching my head in wonder at the seemingly random things my toddler does and says. It just makes no sense. For example, why did a particular song on the radio make him tear off his clothes and run to fetch a maraca? I am still in the dark on that one.  Upon closer observation, though, I've started to think that instead of regarding my toddler with a quizzical expression, there are some behaviours I should emulate.  Namely:

1. Enjoy things with every fibre of your being. The other day I was at a playground with my son. We were both having a great time going down the slide together. I smiled and thought 'this is fun'. He, on the other hand, laughed so hard he couldn't even stand up. It's as if at some point around our adolescent years, we learnt that it isn't "cool" to be too enthusiastic about things. We adults laugh, but not so hard we shake. The only time you really see adults literally falling about laughing is when they're drunk.  This is a shame, and I think toddlers have a thing or two to teach us when it comes to truly enjoying the world around us. 

2. Forgive other people. Toddlers don't hold grudges. At a recent play date, another wee boy took my son's favourite toy and threw it. Another girl tried to steal his doll. My son forgave them both instantly: no passive-aggressive Facebook status updates, no bitching to third parties, no grudge-holding for the next decade. If only we adults were as forgiving. 

3. Cry. Of course, I don't mean crying of the flailing-limbs-in-the-supermarket while yelling "I want chocolate" variety. But, I like the way that when something makes my son sad, he'll cry. Yesterday, it was a scene in Frozen that made him so sad he shed a tear. Last month, it was when Grandma went home. Like the laughing I mentioned above, it's a shame we regulate our emotions as much as we do. Maybe it would have been cathartic to have cried in Frozen as well. 

4. Be assertive. Think about what you want, and go for it. Even if that thing is completely irrational, like for your broken bit of bread to magic itself back into one piece. I know there are plenty of times in my life I would benefit from being more assertive, and for adopting a toddler's negotiation tactics.

5. Ask questions. Some days I hear the word "why" so often even when I'm alone I feel that I can hear it. But, some days, my toddler asks questions, and I realise I don't actually know the answer. Like, what's the difference between a bison and a buffalo? I had to resort to Google for that, wondering all the while why I didn't know, and why I'd never thought to look it up. Intellectual curiosity is never a bad thing, and I wonder at what stage I stopped asking why quite so often myself. 

Of course, there are plenty of toddler behaviours which would lose you friends and probably get you fired. No-one would want to sit beside the person at work who throws a tantrum when their pasta has too  much sauce on it, or does a wee on the middle of the floor. But, still, I think we have a lot to learn from toddlers. And eventually, maybe I'll start to understand mine a little bit better.