A mother’s place is in the wrong, doubly so if, like me, you’re a feminist mother of boys. Barely a day goes by when I’m not dreaming up new ways to emasculate my mini patriarchs.
Whether it’s buying them the wrong-coloured Kinder Surprise eggs or cunningly slipping “girl” words, such as “music” and “sunshine” into everyday conversation, I’m always coming up with tactics for disrupting the natural pink-and-blue order of things.
One of the worst examples of this occurred when I was potty-training my eldest two. For this, I didn’t just use a normal potty – I used a pink one, largely because I got it cheap from Asda. Furthermore, when they weren’t sitting on said potty, waiting for “something to happen”, my sons wore pink Disney Princess pull-ups (chosen by them, I hasten to add, on the basis that the toddler on the “girl” packet was wearing fairy wings, whereas the toddler on the “boy” packet was wingless).