The End of an Era

Human Highlighter Suit Tally: 7

Milo’s favorite color is pink.  Always has been, at least since he’s had a favorite color.  He has had a powder pink backpack and lunch box for the past two years.  He loves pink shirts, and pink socks that go over his knees.  Last year I had to order girls’ knee socks for him.  We have always wondered when he might get self-conscious about his favorite color, when other kids might start teasing him about it.  It seems the time has come.

Last Friday the C.C. had a play date with a boy in her class, and Milo came along.  We were going out to the park across the street from our friends’ house, and the kids wanted to bring scooters.  Three kids, three scooters, the smallest one of which was pink.  C.C. and David grabbed the big ones and I said, “Hey Milo, check it out.  This one is pink—your favorite color!”  Well, Mr. Milo gave me the stink eye, big time.  I got the message. 

Last night I was snuggling with him before he went to sleep and decided to ask him about it.

“Hey Milo, how come you didn’t want me to say anything the other day about your favorite color being pink.”

“Because it’s a girl color.”

“Really? How can a color belong to girls or boys.  Colors are just colors, and anyone can like any color.  You still like pink, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what? Pink is a great color!”

“I don’t like it when the kids tease me about it.”

“Kids tease you?  What do they say?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are they in your class?  Are they the same laughy-heads that say things when your hair sticks up?”

“Bigger kids.  I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, well, I think pink is a terrific color.  Grandpa Joe liked to wear pink.”

“I know that.  And so does the goalie from Valencia.  And you know what?”

“What?”

“Roger Federer has a pink tennis shirt.”

“Well, those are some pretty tough guys that wear pink.”

“I know that.”

And then C.C. and Alec came in, and Milo put his hand over my mouth because he didn’t want to talk any more in front of them.

So I’m a little bit sad about this moment of gender consciousness in my son.  Not that there are not a million subtle signals that get sent to him every day.  But the color thing is so arbitrary.  And so broadly assumed, even at a progressive international school.  One day when I was walking into the schoolyard with the kids, another mom said, “Oh, you must have mixed up their backpacks this morning.”  “Nope,” I replied.  “Those are their favorite colors.”