Psychologist Xenia Wittenberg spied an interesting story on the playground.
As I stop to get coffee, so is the story. This time the park and playground. Moms in bunches. The baby runs and squeals. Balance bikes, bikes, scooters, cars and some other things are parked along the perimeter - hybrids of a stroller and a bicycle.
Stared at the newly arrived couple - a mother and a boy of three years old. He gets off the balance bike and flies to a pile of toys near the sandbox. While mom completes the "parking", the guy makes contact with the girl.
The girl has a stroller, Peppa Pig is in the stroller. The kid is enterprising, looks around, grabs the nearest bucket, and holds out a couple of things for sand to the girl. The girl is carried on a bucket, the guy gets a stroller and, with the sound of an airship taking off, begins to carry around the site.
And here comes the party breaker in the face of his mom.
- Nazar! - the voice is either nervous or frightened, - give the stroller to the girl!
- Let him play, we are not leaving yet, - this is the girl's mother or her nanny, appears at the cry.
- Don't, it's a toy for girls.
And to my son:
- Nazar, do you hear? This is for girls! Boys don't play with strollers.
Nazar does not lead with his ear. He has already cut a couple of circles and his whole look says “they are not playing yet! I play, I like it." He can’t say it yet, so he just turns sharply and drives off to the far corner of the site. Symbolic end of the world.
But mom catches up with her son and on the edge, takes (!) From the hands of the stroller, repeats to the roaring baby:
- Are you a girl?! Boys don't play with strollers!
Watching while waiting for my latte. And already with my skin I feel the helplessness of the baby, his anger and mismatch of pictures.
How is it, dads with strollers are walking around. Dads are boys, I am also a boy. Why are they allowed strollers, but I'm not?
And dads still carry babies in their arms. And little boys, future, by the way, dads see it. Children always play what they observe. This is fine. So they enter the reality that surrounds them, and in which they live. Try it on yourself. It's sad when the stupidity of adults knocks off a distant and correct aim.
Getting my coffee, sorry baby. Then I smile: I imagined his mother, who saw her son with a doll.