Henry is always being something–usually some kind of animal. Crawling, running, growling, roaring, quacking, barking, breathing fire. Now that we seem to have gotten past the multi-month dinosaur phase–”I’m a stri-tera-ops! I’m a T-rex! I’m a stegosaurus!”–recent favorites include lobster, panda, ANIMAL tiger (as distinguished from Kung Fu Master Tigress), and the entire caterpillar-pupa-butterfly routine.
Under the influence of his superhero-obsessed cousin, he recently announced, “I’m a dog. I’m a SUPER dog.” And yesterday he declared, “I’m a superhero DANCING!” and proceeded to do a very impressive little jig.
Lately he seems to be groping more toward concepts of gender–he will periodically announce, “I’m a GIRL panda” or something like that. Interestingly, he never bothers to note that he is a BOY whatever–masculinity apparently still being the unstated norm in Henry’s world despite the efforts of mommy and her legions of feminist comrades. He will, however, note specifically if he is being “a mommy lion,” or “a daddy elephant,” or “a baby bear cub.” And occasionally he will respond to a question about “What are you now?” with “I’m just a boy.” (Sometimes, “I’m just a kid.”)
The other day in the car he asked me if I was a girl. I explained that I was a woman, which is what girls become when they grow up, just like boys grow into men. (Apologies to the transgender activists and Judith Butlerites out there–I suppose I haven’t myself entirely accepted that we can–or at any rate, not easily) grow up into whatever gender we want, at least at the knee-jerk level of trying to explain things to a three-year-old while driving.) Anyway, Henry responded blankly to this and demanded to know, “But mommy, are you a GIRL?” Until I finally said, “Yes, I’m a girl. A grown-up girl,” I added for good measure. He was silent for a moment and then announced, “You’re MY girl.” Melt.
After the usual rapid cycling this morning between lion, tiger, and anything else that could run around roaring, Henry announced at breakfast, “I’m a GIRL. I’m a girl growing up. I grow up to be…to be…to be…” Mommy: “What, sweetie?” Henry: “I grow up to be a TURTLE!”
Here he is as a caterpillar:
