I was at Pottery Barn Kids the other day buying shelving for our playroom when I spotted an adorable retro play kitchen. You know those fancy ones that look like they’re from a 1950s kitchen. It was a floor model and reduced to $99 from $249. It was perfect.
Except it was pink. 
Pink!
I asked the sales clerk if they had any other floor models in, say, red or white. No such luck. The only one available was a girly bubblegum pink.
I froze and fed Harper a steady stream of Goldfish while I hemmed and hawed.
Why couldn’t Harper play with a pink kitchen? Pink has been marked as a “girl” color over the years, but I’m not sure why it’s become so off limits to boys. We wouldn’t think twice about buying a little girl a blue kitchen. It’s not going to confuse Harper’s identity if he plays in a pink kitchen. He’s not even going to know the difference — he’s only interested in play cooking. Besides, would Mario Batali refuse to cook on a pink stove? I highly doubt it. A cook is a cook — in big kitchens and small ones, pink ones and blue ones.
Still, I didn’t buy it. Because even if I’m comfortable with Harper playing in a pink kitchen, I just didn’t want to deal with the raised eyebrows from just about everyone else I know. I imagined my sister and brother-in-law making comments to my husband about his boy playing in a pink kitchen, and I thought about people gossiping about the fact that I bought my son a pink kitchen.
And I found myself caring more than I like to admit.
But really, why is it a big deal to let a boy play in a pink kitchen? I’m not encouraging Harper to be a girl. I’m merely encouraging him to play. I wasn’t actively seeking a pink kitchen to prove a point. This one just kinda fell in my lap. But what are people so afraid of when it comes to boys doing girly things anyway?
Toddlers should be exploring the world around them. It shouldn’t matter what colors things are, or if they want to play with trucks or dolls, trains or kites. It’s only important that they’re learning.
I’m glad I didn’t buy the pink kitchen. Hearing everyone’s disapproval is one reason, but there is another: It actually doesn’t match the turquoise walls of the playroom.
Brooke Foster, who traded city life for a picket fence in the suburbs, writes at Weewestchester.
