Out of my element

I started Christmas shopping yesterday, and I discovered that there is a place where I feel completely out of my element, besides a non-liturgical worship service that uses an electric guitar and a drum set to praise Jesus. That place is a children's clothing store, and I spent a few bewildered moments trying to get my bearings, surrounded by pint size clothes and sales women who were more than willing to teach me the difference between a 4T and little girl's small.

My intentions were initially pure, and I wanted to buy something cute and girlish for my nieces, but I found myself having to control an impulse to purchase a leopard print coat. Children's clothing is EXPENSIVE, and I want to meet the parent who is willing to shell out fifty bucks for a coat that can be worn for two minutes without having jelly dribbled on it and two months before it becomes a hand-me-down. Yesterday, I discovered I have an opinion about the way children should dress, which should be filed under "Ignorant statements made by a person who has no children." That statement will sit right next to the folder that contains my opinions about the way children should behave in church, but that is another post entirely. What I learned yesterday is that clever marketers want us to dress our kids like miniature adults, on the cusp of being able to purchase their own beer, rather than little kids who still have eight years before the onset of puberty. Of course, once my nieces open their gifts, I am sure their mothers will think, "This is obviously a purchase made by someone who has no children, and has no business having them."

I did find matching outfits for my nieces, who just so happen to live on opposite ends of the country, and they are cute outfits, pink with a smattering of glitter, something a little girl would love. I had a harder time shopping for my nephews, and after perusing Baby Gap, I decided that if I purchased a shirt that said, "World's Cutest Sailor," I would be pointed out as the culprit who made sure my nephew got beat up everyday on the playground. I did have my hand on a camo patterned hoodie, but two of my nephews live outside of San Francisco, and again, I want to make sure they don't get beat up everyday on the playground, or ostracized by some protester who is against hunting Bambi.

I bought the nephews toys, and then I worried that I was perpetuating a stereotype that encourages girls to think only in the terms of pink and clothes, while encouraging boys to be, well, boys. I had to push that aside, though, because I know when the wrapping and bows are torn off their presents on Christmas, they will love their presents. Their parents may not, but the kiddies will.