Pink Christmas

God took me out Christmas shopping this week. Among other things this got me into areas of stores into which I don’t normally venture. The toy aisle to be specific.

The thing about the toy aisles is they’re one of the few places left where as a culture we still revel in stereotyping. That aisle full of army men and construction vehicles, it may not say it’s the boys’ aisle, but we all know it is. And then you turn the corner and find yourself awash in a sea of pink, and, well, you know whose aisle that is.

Before I even had a chance to start spouting off any politically correct denouncement of the displays before me, God cut me off. He told me that catering to the gender preferences isn’t a problem, the thing that’s a problem is not allowing the kids to also step outside of their stereotypes. There’s nothing wrong with conforming in your tastes, there’s only something wrong in being made to conform and in not being allowed to not conform.

So if your little Martian wants to take a field trip to Venus, don’t force him to sneak out when you’re not looking, show him the way. Odds are he’ll want to come back pretty soon, but if he doesn’t, at least you’ll know where he is.

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