A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

Look At Poor Barbie...

The girl was playing with her Barbies at the hearth yesterday, playing something with Hamm and her dollhouse and there seemed to be goings on having to do with sharing and having good manners and there was possibly a picnic happening.

I was sitting on the sofa, swirling in a cloud of sick and Contac watching Mickey Mouse clubhouse because the remote was so far away, when she came over to me with a concerned look and Barbie in her hand.

"Mommy, how can Barbie be happy?" she asked.

I was thinking of the tee shirt from the 90s "because the bitch has everything" as a valid response but refrained as she's only five. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look at poor Barbie, look at her tummy it can't ever be big. She can't ever have babies. How can she be happy without babies?" the look of concern continued.

Now I'm sick and on a slippery parenting slope. I want to say the right things here. As a post-feminist believer and a woman I want to convey that having babies isn't the only road to happiness, that having a family is a choice women can make willingly but that women can use birth control and never have babies and be very happy because it's their life and finding fulfillment isn't only met via reproducing.

I consider all of this and decide oh god that's a lot to lay down at a five year old so instead I say "Well, does Barbie WANT babies?"

She answers "Look all she has is a pig, who can be happy with that? Mommy her tummy will never be soft for cuddles, it's terrible."

I decide to gear up for a positive role model type of speech when she says "I know, Snow White can be her baby! PERFECT!" and runs off. She returns with Snow White and Aurora and says "TWINS!" and then proceeds to play.

Well I probably missed a moment but I guess in a way I'm flattered that she thinks that having a soft tummy and being a mommy equals happy. I guess it means I portray both of these things in a positive light.

I either missed a parenting moment there or made too much of a passing fancy, or somewhere in between. I'm sick it's not my fault.