Boys don't do pink

Yesterday morning Connor and I went to a playdate at a friend's house. This friend has a 3-year-old girl, but her toys were a pretty good mix of "boy" toys and "girl" toys. She had just as many trucks and cars as she did play house things. Connor spent most of his time playing with the cars and trucks which are some of his favorite things. But near the end of our visit he caught sight of a guitar. 

It was pink. And Barbie. And played music. And had a lot more features than his guitars at home. And it was pink. 

I could care less. He was happy to be rocking out and playing the guitar. So happy that I couldn't get him to put it down so we could go home. 

My friend graciously told us to borrow it for a while. "She'll never realize it's gone and when you bring it back it'll be like a brand new toy."

Worked for me. 

Connor played with it while I was buckling him in. He played with it the whole car ride home. He played with it while we were walking in the front door to our house. 

"What the hell is that?" asked hubby. 

"It's a guitar."

"It's pink."

"It's a guitar."

"It's pink."

"We were at a little girl's house."

"It's pink."

"We're just borrowing it."

"It's pink."

Hubby couldn't quite get over the color despite the fact that pink used to be the preferred color for little boys and despite the fact that it is just a color. But he's a man, so only manly things are appropriate for his little boy. Silly men.