The Great White Hunter

Exploring identity is important to children. I get that. That's why I get asked lots of questions about the ages, gender, height, and nutritional sources of so many of the areas of interest in Max's world. He's becoming so curious about things other than himself and vehicles designed by John Deere (finally, thank God). As his world expands, he's exploring, and trying to figure out how he fits into it.

Pretend play and dressing-up are an important part in this discovery. This morning we played a favorite game of his, creatively titled, "Town". Not a real tricky game, this "Town". It usually involves him being a firefighter and Sam and I being assigned another town character. Today Sam was a police officer and I was a person doing laundry. At least he was working around my skills.

So we played this for a while, and then Max offered to switch and let his brother be the firefighter and I could be the police officer doing laundry. Clearly I need a new agent, because I have some concerns about becoming typecast.

It's precious to watch Max and his friends act out different characters, practice dialogue, and boss the baby brother around. I remember the same experience vividly from my own childhood. And my heart literally "zings!" when they do this, because honestly, there really wasn't a more pleasurable past-time for me as a child than dressing-up. Even though my fashion sense today more closely resembles a fleece-vested version of my high school gym teacher than a character on Sex in The City, at one time in my life I was VERY into fashion.

I remember distinctly every dress and jewel in our antique red trunk, as well as the wardrobe selection available at all the other homes in the neighborhood. Like the yellow tulle skirt with the butterfly waistband and the spectacular silver heels at my friend Amy's house, the pink chiffon dress with billowy busom and matching pillbox hat at my neighbor's house, and the silky sleep sets at Kristi's. I remember the hours on end that we would spend trying on different outfits, acting out different characters, and negotiating for key pieces of costume.

So I've put together a little trunk of treasures for the boys, and I'll admit I'm having a harder time filling it than I thought I would. I'm trying to avoid gender stereotypes, but I also want to include items that they are interested in, so I've put in a beret, the firefighter and construction hats, some scarves, capes and goggles, doctor kits, a chefs apron and magnifying glasses.

The boys have started adding to the collection, too (oh, so that's where you put your sippy cup, Sammy. Thanks.), and I've even added a few of my old dresses and jewelery.

You totally know where this is going, don't you?

It was inevitable, really. Today Max put on the cotton-candy pink sleveless dress that I wore to my brother and sister-in-law's wedding in 2000. I zipped it up (at his encouragement) while trying so hard to swallow my laughter and tears of happiness. He giggled excitedly and said,

"Look at me! I'm a HUNTER!"

Yeah.

You try not laughing in the boy's face at that one.

Holding back the waves of hysteria, I snorted out,

"Honey, what exactly has Daddy told you goes on at hunting camp?"

Then he started singing the "Hunter song" from Peter and The Wolf, and I realized that he saw it more as a cossac tunic than a dress, which shows that he has some wicked eye for fashion. Recognizing that he's not completely dressed until accessorized, the little pink hunter requested a belt, specifically something resembling a rope. So I started sorting through the vintage suitcase and came up with something that I thought would work perfectly.

"No, Mommy," he said in that "your so silly and fashion risk-adverse" voice, "That's a scarf. This is how you wear it." And he wrapped it around his neck jauntily and showed me that I clearly know nothing about fashion.

Or hunters.

And of course, I took a picture. But that's not something I'll show The Internet. Someday, if Max chooses to wear dresses and call himself a hunter (and you might want to carry if that's the case, son), then it will be his choice to bring the picture out to share. But for now it's just between us.

But I will leave you with this very inspirational piece: