Would it be terribly wrong to greet the next "IT'S A GIRL!!!" card with a look of consternation and surprise teamed with "OH MY GOD! REALLY? IS SHE? I HAD NO IDEA! I mean, people keep giving us pink stuff, but I was sure that was a penis! A girl, you say... incredible..."
I am so grateful to the lovely people who brought us gifts. I really am. If more than 1% had been not-pink, that also would have made me very happy.
I thought that the massive knitting project (a cot blanket knitted on 3mm needles IS a massive undertaking, trust me) I toted around and showed to EVERYONE over several months might have established a certain aesthetic: bone, cream, navy and red. "Look at this gorgeous (red) jacket!"... "I LOVE that sweet (gray) wondersuit!" Um, no. We said "she's a girl!" and they heard "PINK". To the point where the one pink thing I let myself buy (ok, one of the very few pink things) - a Bugaboo hood and cover, which seemed cute and tongue-in-cheek oh, SO girly - now seems ludicrous and makes me feel faintly nauseous because it's just another pink thing in the sea of pastels, brights, ruffled and frilled pink things.
I have one wish for my daughter (at this early stage of being): that she might know there are colours other than pink. Fifty shades of grey? Pffft. Try my existence... four thousand and ninety-seven shades of that colour sitting sweetly and innocently between red and white.