Whatever you are, be a good one.

"Be who you are

And say what you feel

Because those who mind don't matter

And those who matter don't mind"

- Dr. Suess

Yesterday Sully and I made a trip to Target for some last minute camping stuff when he found the pacifier's down an aisle. We've been working on curtailing the "paci" usage, so I did my best to sway his decision by offering up an Icee once we got ready to leave for being a big boy.

He wasn't budging, so I said okay since we just threw away all but 3 that were bad.

After a lot of deliberating over all of his choices (its the first time ever he got to pick) he handed me the pink ones.

The purple and pink paci's with PRINCESS slapped across them.

In a span of 3 seconds or so my mind raced back to an article I had just read last week about the expectations we place on children's gender roles and the freedom we as adults should be giving them to make choices for themselves, gender expectations placed aside.

I consider myself to be laid back about these kind of issues - for his birthday he got a kitchen (not a BBQ "boy" set) to "cook", he has baby dolls and I encourage all forms of dancing, even ballet in our house. We practice the acceptance of everyone in our home and work really hard as parents to teach Sully to celebrate people's differences. Yeh, I'm aware this all sounds very hippie-dippy, and perhaps a bit naive, but I really do believe change in our world starts at home. It starts here and now.

But I won't lie, even my knee-jerk reaction at the blatantly "girlish" paci's was to say those weren't for little boys. Way to practice what you preach, girl.

Damn it.

I didn't, thank god - catching myself in that 3 second span of time before I actually opened my mouth and said something stupid. I smiled, and held out the pink paci's with a set of green ones and asked him to pick again, just to make sure he got the ones he wanted.

He jumped and smiled and yelled "The pink paci's Mama!" - I offered them up, and he grabbed them and smiled and hugged them to his chest.

Walking through Target I wondered what other people were thinking as my obviously boy child protested loudly for the purple and pink princess paci's to be opened for him - if they thought anything at all.

I wondered for about a second, coming to a quick conclusion that I really didn't care what other people thought. I care more about my son feeling supported in the choices he's learning to make for himself, whatever those are.

That small tinge of fear wasn't for how people would judge me - but how they would judge him - because society is harsh, and ignorant people will place and pass judgments even on a two-year-old little boy for having a purple princess binky in his mouth, jumping to conclusions about who or how someone is. I can only hope now that our choice in how to approach and support these matters , no matter the context - makes for a confident and bold adult some day, willing to go against the tide or popular thing when need be.

I wonder if those people know his favorite color is purple because its his beloved King's hockey color or that he has no idea what a princess even is - and that he likes pink because piggies are pink, and he adores his piggies.

We never even made it out of the store with them. Once we rounded to the front and his eyes caught the Icee machine he placed them on a shelf and asked for one instead of the paci's. I would have preferred the paci's - because 20 short minutes later I was on my hands and knees cleaning neon blue puke from my floor my kid decided to ralph up everywhere.

Note to self: I have never been so happy to have wood floors as I was in that moment.

I kind of wish he had come home with them. Don't get me wrong - I'm happy that he made the choice not to, I know he's growing up - but part of me wishes he had, for so many reasons. I never expected that having a child would make me feel so soundly grounded in my convictions, so completely passionate and ready to stand up for my son in regards to his, whether he's 2 or 20. Because one day he'll possibly come across this - and he'll know his Mama always had his back, and proudly held his hand as he clutched his pink paci's in the other that one day in Target that he doesn't remember - haters be damned.

There's a sense of perspective I've gained with the birth of my son, of understanding and unconditional love. He's my heart, walking around outside of my chest - he's our decisions and choices and personal character and life lessons staring us right back in the face. He's our Bubbi, our hell raiser, our cuddle-bug, our computer wizard - our dirt eater and lizard catcher. He's our little hockey player, our artist, our car and train fanatic, our chef, our rock star and sometimes, even our little Princess.