Où sont les Zooms d'antan?

In case anyone who went to school with me or did feminist street activism with me or took any classes I taught during my "dress like a biker Boy Scout" phase imagined otherwise, my boy/girl twins were not decked out in cheerfully gender-neutral striped pajamas for Chanukah candle-lighting and gifted with matching tool-belts and chemistry sets. After a few wholesome rounds of bath crayons, Play-Doh, and sticker sets, it was off to Grandmama's for Christmas, where la jeune fille got toy kitchen stuff and play food while he made off with infrastructure improvements for his train set and a large, noisy "Mack" from "Cars" with its own small, noisy, and disconcertingly (if accurately) lightning-fast Lightning McQueen. Then back to the home routine with race-car jammies and t-shirts appliqued with wrecking balls and construction cranes for him and a candy-pink "Hello Kitty" Sigg bottle and a ridiculous floofy pseudo-tutu for her. Last night, the Last Night, he got a remote-control  fire truck which not only dashes around at his bidding but relieves him of the responsibility for making "woo-woo" noises on his own, while she got an authentic Bollywood Princess outfit bought in Mumbai by  doting cousins, the alligator purse, and a toy baby carrier to haul her Elmo doll around in. If I'd thought of it I could have ordered a set of these and been done with it:

 

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