About two years ago, I became skeptical of my decision to allow the kids free will.
Well, at least regarding toys. Not being a huge fan of gender stereotypes, pink, or damsels in distress, you can imagine how thrilled I was when my daughter began showing major signs of some serious Princess infatuation.
Princess dolls, books, sippy cups, clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste(!?), backpack, and even underpants. Obviously, my attempts at cheery gender neutrality (“look sweetie, don’t you love these rainbow sneakers??”) were fatally outnumbered. In the end, not wanting to unintentionally give the message that my daughter’s choices were somehow invalid, I swallowed my feminist theory and celebrated her frilly fanaticism with tea party gusto.
(And besides, trying to obstruct the line of focus in someone with ASD – no matter how little, or cute they may be – is about as effective as asking a charging bull to politely move to the side.)
So today, just as I was wondering whether or not to let my son wear a tutu he was begging for, I heard my daughter making some strange…haunted noises, followed by the analog voice of Miley Cyrus emanating from a barbie. Hmm.
Me: “Honey, what are you doing in there?”
Her: “I’m playing Hannah Montana, mom. Hannah Montana and ZOMBIES!” She said with unmitigated glee.
I went to go watch, and the visual effect was not unlike how I’d imagine a Precious Moments line of Undead figurines.
So, so sweet. So, so adorable, so…morbid.
That’s my girl!