If there was any doubt that my daughter is, indeed, Canadian, this should settle it: she has, at the age of two, decided that she wants to be a hockey player.
She has to learn to skate, first. We’re working on that. She’s picking it up pretty quickly, except for the part where she keeps insisting upon leaving the rink to find hockey sticks, and real hockey players:
I joke. I love that she wants to play hockey in a tutu. Subverting princess-ism and hockey machismo all in one go. Now if we could just get the boy, when he arrives, to aspire toward cowboy-violin artistry, or ballerina-firefighting, we’ll be a post-graduate gender studies seminar.