Real men wear pink.

And play with pink kitchens and dollhouses. And wear frilly yellow barrettes.

My mom tells me that when we were small, my little brother would play anything just to play with me. He played with dolls, he played with Barbies, he played with whatever I told him to, and he never cared if it wasn’t “for boys.”

Same thing with Lily’s daddy. If Lily wants him to wear the pink hat, he wears the pink hat and ask for the matching purse. Sometimes he even wears her pink pajamas as a hat. (He’ll probably make me take this one down as soon as he sees it, but I couldn’t help myself. In fairness, though, he was trying to get her to put her pajamas on. Pretty sure the strategy didn’t work.)

So if she wants to have a tea party, he holds his pinky as high as he can and asks for more sugar.

They pose with the giant shoe at the girly salon.

They play with dolls, and they play dress up.

She likes to be the princess who stands on her daddy.

And just because I promised I wouldn't put this on Facebook and it fits so well right here, Uncle Marcus has been know to sport the pink hat, too.

I always wanted my girl. I imagined myself dressing up with her, playing dolls with her, painting my toenails bright pink with her. Strangely enough, I never even thought of how much fun it would be to watch her do these things with her daddy, never caring that these things aren’t “for boys.”