Back in college, I had some pretty big plans for my future children. They were gonna be awesome. And smart. And unique. They weren’t going to be like other kids, with their Disney bedroom sets, and their Wiggles CDs, and their SpongeBob SquarePantses.

And they sure as shootin’ weren’t going to be tied to any of society’s oppressive gender stereotypes. No way, man, not my kids. People always told me about how girl-kids were more intellectual and boy-kids were more physical. Girls like to talk and boys like to smash, they’d say. And like any good college student who, after four years of higher education, knew basically everything, I responded with a smirk, a chuckle, and a snooty “whatever.”

Well, fast-forward to now, and here I am with a boy who acts very much like a “boy” and a girl who acts very much like a “girl.” She started talking and reading early. He started head-butting almost immediately. Whoops. “How is this happening?,” I ask myself. My wife and I are pretty neutral when it comes to gender stuff. Our kids share pretty much the same set of toys. My parenting plans were so solid and well-thought-out. How could I have lost my way?

I’d do well to remember that even further back, in the seventh grade, I had plans to name my firstborn son Oktober. Yes, “October” but with a “k.” Do you know any seventh grade boys able to rip their thoughts away from sex and video games long enough to brainstorm dork-tastic name options for their future children? No. No you do not.

It’s this same surface-level thinking that led college-age Mike to think he would someday raise super-awesome, super-non-conformist children who’d wear tutus while they played with dump trucks and cowboy hats while they played with dollies.

It’s been hard coming to grips with fact that my kids just aren’t like that. I’ve always wanted to raise children able to break free of stereotypes and not let anyone tell them who they should be, and other very inspirational things. Now, I felt this way back in college because it was just a cool thing to say to people. But after having kids, I have my wife has found actual, logical reasons to foster the kinds of play that buck traditional gender trends.

For example: Should your son play with dolls? Why, hell yes, he should, kind sir. It will help teach him to be a good father someday (if he so chooses to be fruitful and multiply).

Does my own son play with dolls? Well ... no. No, dammit, he doesn’t. I’d love for him to play with dolls because then I could whip out the “I want him to be a good father someday, open your mind, man” speech, like, all the time. But as of yet, no such luck. He mostly likes bashing things into other things, jumping off tall furniture, and shoving his finger up his nose. And tractors and fire engines and trucks and more tractors.

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My daughter, on the other hand, recently told me that all girls like pink and boys aren’t allowed to like pink. Boys like blue. So I astutely pointed out that her mother and I possess a video recording wherein she names “blue” as her favorite color, and that this is irrefutable evidence that a girl can like blue. She giggled and said, “Oh.” Then she asked, “Daddy, do you like pink?” I sighed and said, “Well ... no. But, um, lots of boys do.”

Touché, small child.

I just want her to realize she can like whatever color she wants, and so can the rest of us. Really, I don’t think gender has anything to do with being a kid, especially kids as young as mine. Peggy O’Mara, the editor of Mothering magazine, really nailed this idea when she wrote an editorial in response to the ridiculous outrage and subsequent media coverage following a J. Crew catalog which included a picture of a young boy playing with his mother, painting his toenails pink. (Some people seem to think this sort of thing will turn you gay.) She wrote:

The child’s job is to play, to imitate, to pretend to be everyone. The child’s job is not to fit into rigid gender expectations. That comes later. That comes when the hormones of puberty kick in. Before that, the sexual identity of a child is fluid.

– Mothering Magazine

O’Mara also advocates simply trusting in a child’s inherent innocence. And I agree. Kids just need to have fun and explore being alive. But letting them do that is not always easy. Sometimes you’ve got your own hangups to battle. Sometimes you’re afraid of what other parents or family members will think. Sometimes you’re just trying too hard to have super-awesome nonconformist kids who listen to NPR and Radiohead and wear ironic t-shirts.

After having kids, I’ve realized just how easy it is to be one of the many people telling them what to do, how to do it, what to like, and how to like it. I don’t think a parent is supposed to be a “person sculptor.” You’re supposed to be more of a character sculptor. And to do that, you need to actually have some character.

I’ll be honest. Taking a good hard look at my own character – at my own integrity – has been one of the more terrifying things about parenthood. It’s right up their with poop in the bathtub. It comes out of nowhere, it totally freaks you out, and, like it our not, you have to deal with it.

And now, post-college, father-of-two Mike is realizing the truest test of his own character will be to somehow show his kids how to be exactly who they are.