Ugh, I know--it's nothing but down the rabbit hole for me these days, but Willow, who was the most AWESOME big sister/stage manager/perfect daughter during every single part of Sydney's fashion show experience, declared that she was jealous of exactly two things having to do with the event:
1) The mom of Sydney's little runway walk buddy gave Sydney treats (in particular, a piece of yellow gum and an M&M cookie, and did not give treats to Willow
2) glitter make-up
As for the treats, I explained to Willow that little children who want to be given something that their sister is being given should leave their books when treats are being handed out and stand next to said sister, smiling expectantly. And also, she didn't even play with that kid! If you don't play with a kid, you don't just automatically get some of that kid's treats. It's a fact, and everyone knows it.
As for the glitter make-up, however...it's a valid point. I could tell when Syd was having her make-up done that Willow wanted some, too, and oooh, it was sparkly. And that's why I spent $50 of the grocery budget (I fixed beans, rice, and baked corn tortillas for dinner THREE TIMES this week! And another day I fixed oatmeal!) on glittery make-up at the drug store, and gave it to the girlies, telling them that, with supervision, they were welcome to play make-up artist anytime they wanted.
Willow, of course, was granted first place in the make-up chair:
Hair Arts Academy, said to Willow, "Make a kissy-kissy face!"
Part of the fun, for me, was watching each girl eagerly, trustingly, and happily put herself into the hands of her sister for her makeover:
Make-up is something that, for me, makes me really uncomfortable. It takes me straight back to junior high, when on the first day of seventh grade I noticed (because some bitch teased me about it) that all the other girls had apparently spent the summer between sixth and seventh grades buying clothes from the mall and learning how to feather their hair and put on too much make-up. I'd spent my summer dealing with my mother's suicide attempt and being taken to visit her at the psychiatric hospital, thank you very much. I never felt in step with my peer group again, and I never put on make-up, and I never feathered my hair (although my Aunt Pam did once, and then she took a photograph, and it's still one of my favorite photographs from my childhood, because damn it, I look so NORMAL on the outside!).
Needless to say, that's not what I want for my own children's childhood. So far, hair and make-up have no gender stereotyped connotations for them--they don't watch Disney princess movies, or commercial TV, and they don't go to public school. The only time that they've seen hair and make-up being done is for the fashion runway, and it was wild, and imaginative, and playful, and, dare I say, immensely empowering.
Funnily enough, that's exactly how I would describe my kids, too, my kids who play with make-up.