A few days ago I found myself talking about pockets. Johanna had discovered that her swimsuit had a pocket, a rare occurrence. Aloisa immediately objected, why did only grownups have pockets in their swimsuits? So I pointed out that I, too, lacked a pocket in my swimsuit, as did Olivia. John had a pocket in his swimsuit. Jeff had a pocket in his swimsuit. So it did not seem that grownups had the advantage here.
Johanna suggested that in our neighbors’ families, again, the pattern persisted: she named the boys and the dads, saying that they had pockets while the girls and the moms did not. Loi saw the scheme: BOYS had pockets, but GIRLS did not. So we asked her why that might be.
Loi suggested that “in the olden days” SOME people thought that girls were not as good as boys. I couldn’t resist muttering “Yeah, like yesterday,” and I said to Loi, “Some people still think that.” Because she is five, my granddaughter said “I KNOW, Grandma.” (Some days, she knows everything.)
Loi has grown up with loving parents, adoring grandparents, an uncle whose visits are a treat and an aunt who stands in as fairy godmother. But somehow even she knows the truth: sometimes, some people think she is not as good as a boy.
I still have a reason to get up in the morning.