It's only a doll, right?

When we found out we were having a girl, we started having very serious discussions about the toys we wanted her to play with. In: trucks, blocks, legos, toolbenches, books and musical instruments. Out: dolls, play kitchens and anything pink. She would learn problem solving and physics and confidence not dependence and care-taking and home economics. We would shape her expectations and aspirations with toys that defy gender stereotypes.

(Ha. HAHAHAHA.)

I am a proud feminist. I intend to teach Z about feminism and how we owe every right and power we enjoy to those strong, brave women who came before us. I also just bought her her first real doll. I believe (hope/pray/am-deluded -into-thinking) that these do not need to be mutually exclusive positions.

She hasn't been interested in dolls until about a week ago. She didn't really have any dolls and if she saw one at playdates, she never played with them. Then last week, she was obsessed with the two baby dolls at Kidspace Museum, carrying them, wrestling with them and refusing to leave them behind in the toddler room without a fight. A few days later, when our friend brought her daughter and her daughter's baby doll for a visit, she similarly latched onto the doll and cried her goodbyes. So what's a good mother who's wracked with guilt and sick inside at the thought of leaving her beautiful, precious daughter at daycare in the all-too-near-future to do?

I went right out and bought her a ridiculously expensive French baby doll, of course.

At least my fears of creating some Stepford girly girl have yet to be realized. In fact, the lack of gentle care-taking of Dolly is rather frightening. Since the purchase of Dolly, she has been regularly and unceremoniously stuffed in a lunchbox, bodyslammed to the floor, carried by the head and let's not even begin to talk about the unspeakable things Z does to her eyes. And Z still likes to spend at least as much time playing in the dirt, pushing her trike, reading books and pouring water from bowl to bowl as before Dolly came along.

So I'm not too worried. Just don't tell Gloria Steinem that I'm seriously eyeing a pink play kitchen. One of the many things I've learned in my 15 months of being a mother is this: never say never.