A Toy Kitchen For Your Son?
a christmas conundrum
2007-12-20
By Eric Easter

Blame it on Bobby Flay. Or Emeril. Or Mario Batali. Whoever. But Dads across America need someone to blame for this new trend of buying toy kitchens for young boys.  At this very moment, thousands of fathers are struggling with the same dilemma.

And I’m not so sure it’s the boys who are asking for all those kitchens. If my unscientific survey of other Dads is correct, it’s the Moms who are pushing it.  They seem to see such gender role reversal as the foundation of some sensitive new future without war and where men call after a date.

In my case, my wife got the bright idea after asking a preschool teacher about our son’s favorite things to play with, and finding out that both he and another boy in class enjoyed playing house -- together.

Of course, being a typical guy, I asked the logical and obvious next question: “Who’s the husband and who’s the wife?”

I’m not sure the answer “They play two Daddies” was any more comfort, but at least my son wasn’t the wife.  Nevertheless, I rejected the notion of the kitchen outright.

There were other considerations as well. Like a lot of urban parents raised on Metropolitan Home and HGTV, the thought of primary colors in our minimalist kitchen grated on me as much as the idea of the toy itself. Now, If Viking made toy professional ranges in stainless steel that spit out real fire, there would have been no argument.

It’s not that I have some problem with men cooking or think it’s a woman’s job. Quite the opposite, actually: In my house I do the bulk of the cooking, and enjoy it. My children watch me cook and I encourage their participation. I even wooed my wife by baking a cheesecake from scratch. And like most families we spend the majority of our time in and around our kitchen, so why wouldn’t the kids want to emulate what they see each day?

But while playing around in a real kitchen is one thing, there’s something about the idea of giving a boy a toy kitchen that seems, well, wrong.

It’s all psychological, but like glue sniffing leads to meth, a kitchen seems like the gateway drug to Hello Kitty, synchronized swimming and a subscription to Details.

Irrational? Of course. Homophobic? I’ll fess up to a little of that. And I surprised even myself with these feelings. I’m not that macho guy who wants his son to win the Heisman or the Cy Young; a Grammy or a Nobel will do just fine. And if I stress anything to my kids, it’s that they should develop a sense of rugged individualism, no matter what others think.

But I am also a victim of my generation, and I’ve seen the nearly savage treatment dealt out to boys who do anything seen as feminine in grade school. Times may have changed, but I doubt it. Sorry, I don’t want that for my son. Sue me.

Funny thing is, I have exactly the opposite reaction with my daughter. I resent the pink princesses conspiracy that’s invading America. Pink books, pink dresses, pink phones, pink hoochie dresses on 8-year-olds. It’s all a ridiculous mess. Slap me if you ever catch me having tea at the American Girl Place. Sure I love having a girly girl, but I also want her to play with trucks and trains, and I fully plan to teach her how to throw a perfect spiral, use a circular saw and hit a boyfri---, sorry, a fastball -- with a bat.

That’s because I think most men are generally jerks and or idiots, and I don’t want my daughter to ever have to depend on one – except me, of course.

Contradictions? Absolutely, and this is just the beginning of the confusion. That’s the curse of parenthood; you’re forced to take positions you never thought you would have on things you never thought you would even think about. And none of them will ever make complete sense.

So back to the question: Should you get that kitchen for your son?  Hey, I’m working this Dad thing out day by day. Don’t ask me for advice.

But I eventually bought one (made of wood, and in blue) after a visit to the preschool. Upon closer observation, I found that my son and his buddy were indeed playing two Daddies – but with six wives each. By abandoning the worms and mudpie crowd and embracing their inner cooks, they had become the darlings of the toddler room female set. I can’t really argue with that strategy. It worked on his mother.

I guess he was listening to that individualism speech the whole time.

Eric Easter is Chief of Digital Strategy for Johnson Publishing Company. He writes about politics, culture and technology for ebonyjet.com.