The Snowflake and the Phallus
One of the things I remember most about Christmas is going to bed with a Santa pillow every night. It was very special to me and surely acted as conduit to many sugar-plum visions. I’d like Arlo and Farrah to have a treasure too but because there is no greater treasure than SLEEP, I am loath to deck those bedroom walls. Still, I wanted to give them something special so nostalgia drew me to these and Goodwill drew them to my shopping cart:
Meep! I love the idea of a small holiday light in their rooms as they drift off to sleep but then after Christmas will they become dependent on a nightlight? STOP. Shut up and live in the moment, Lisa. “Run back upstairs to your room and look for something sparkly!” will be Arlo’s Sunday Advent Calendar activity, and he’ll do it and he’ll see his tiny tree that Kris turned on while we were downstairs. But this is not a post about Christmas. This is a post about gender identity.
Why the tree for Arlo? Why not the snowflake for Arlo?
Arlo is in the Snowflake room at Preschool of the Arts; in fact he often identifies as a Snowflake. And yet my gut reaction was to give him the tree and Farrah the snowflake. Tree, strong, wood, dark, man. Snowflake, soft, pretty, delicate, girl. Grrrrr! Curse you, Brain! And a lifetime of conditioning! This year I break the cycle delicately. The sparkly snowflake will be what hangs in his sparkly room on Sunday morning. Next year perhaps it will be the tree. I will let him decide. Until Farrah wants it and then I don’t know what …. what …..
Live in the moment, Lisa. LIVE.IN.IT.