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Pink for Girls and Blue for Boys [SHORT STORY]

Dollhouse stories about stereotypes

It was the first time he was entering the room. The ceiling was painted dark blue with little silver stars sprinkled all over it. His black eyes, so like his mother’s, were unblinking as they took in his surroundings. A bright blue cradle, with blue, yellow and red bedding stood in a corner facing the window. He could see the tree tops and the blue sky above. The sky looked so like the walls of his room, blue speckled with white clouds. Above the cradle, hung a model of a tiny airplane. He had sat inside a similar plane today morning, only it was much larger.

Next to his bed stood a car. He knew it was a car because he had driven home in one of them just now. Only this was much smaller, and had all sorts of funny lights in the front. He supposed this one was for him to drive.
As his mother lay him down in his cradle, his eyes fell on a cupboard placed along the opposite wall. It was filled with toys. They all looked big and strong, so like his daddy. One of them had what looked like wings on his back, a dome on his head and a big smile. He had heard his sister call him Buzz Lightyear. He liked him the best.

He looked for some toy that looked like his mother, like the one his sister was carrying in her hands, but couldn’t find one. Well, maybe he could borrow hers.

It was their monthly visit to the supermarket. He was big now, hadn’t he just started going to school. His mother called him her little gentleman. He proudly pushed the cart around for her, while she picked up the groceries. Then they went to get his stuff. He loved the little pink tubes of toothpaste, with the picture of a little girl on it. She looked so like his sister. But his mother always picked out the other one for him. He didn’t like the guy on it. His eyes were too big and his clothes were funny, like a spider web spread all over his body. Some of his clothes had the same guy on them. That or the other guy who had little black horns on his head. He could never understand why all of them had such glum looks on their faces.
He wondered why his things were all so different from his sister’s. Why was his room blue? Why couldn’t he have the pretty dolls his sister would play with? Why would his father always smirk when he tried to play with the big doll-house in his sister’s room? He loved playing the cook with his sister. Why did he have to always use the toothbrush with the car on it, or the water bottle that looked like a rocket, when he so loved the one that looked like a fairy? Why didn’t they let him choose? Why couldn’t he sit on the swings or play hopscotch with the kids?
Was it all because he was a boy?
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