One of my 4-year-old twin daughters is a balls-to-the-wall, head-first-diving, highest-tree-climbing, 800-meter-running, outlasting-the-Duracell-battery-rabbit, dress-wearing-in-the-dirt, worm-collecting, stunning beauty of a kid. The other is a boy.
When I say she is a boy, I mean just that. She’ll tell you, “I am a boy.” I also mean that “she.” She is a “she.” At least for now. She is also her sister’s brother. Just ask. She’ll tell you.
You only need to listen.
My boy will talk your ear off. About everything. About nothing. All at once.
My boy is a sensitive flower. She cries easily. More easily than her sister. It’s okay. She gets over it more easily than her sister, too.
My boy is strong willed and stubborn –- just like her mother –- and like her dad.
She doesn’t like dresses. She prefers pants. She looks devastating in a suit and vest.
She looks devastating in a dress as well — when she’s playing dress up. Then she is the high diva of the cheetah command or something like that.
She likes cheetahs.
No, she loves cheetahs.
No, she’s obsessed with cheetahs.
She’s the smartest four-year-old I know. Every day she creates fanciful stories with monsters and superheroes and spiders, and cheetahs.
My boy has beautiful long brown hair that curls naturally into ringlets. I’ve found my inner hairdresser in my desire to comb it.
My boy loves to cuddle.
My boy loves kisses.
My boy loves The Hulk.
Does this seem all over the gender spectrum to you? Does this not fit your thoughts as to how a boy or girl should act? Good. Let that uneasiness open your mind. Expand your thinking as to what is a “girl” and what is a “boy.”
In the meantime, I will continue loving my boy, my daughter, my child as she sees fit to describe herself. Gender is not binary.