Having open and honest conversations about misogyny can go a long way.
I'm a serial entrepreneur and the founder of a global digital education content company, specializing in cross-cultural issues. I also happen to be a minority female from a traditional culture. I mention that fact last because it's the least relevant reason as to how and why I became an entrepreneur and how I run my business.
So many words exist, but some are sexual, crude, rude or gross. They had this problem in Sweden, so they coined a new word for it. In 2000 they came up with snippa as a female equivalent to snopp and it entered the dictionary six years later.
He is ready for this next step. Beyond ready. We haven't had an easy time of it lately. His behaviour has been challenging to say the least and while I know that this is perfectly natural, it has made me doubt myself on many an occasion. He needs school. He needs the stimulation that learning and socialising will bring him. He is ready. So ready. I'm just not sure I am.
I've looked up a few definitions of what a toddler is on Google today. Some people suggest it's when they turn one, another website suggested between 2-3 years old, a very common opinion is when they start walking unaided, and my favourite suggestion so far is that your kid only becomes a fully fledged toddler once they start stealing your car keys.
The week he started school every boy in the reception class was issued with a letter to their parents warning about some bad behaviour. There'd been an incident which resulted in a child being hurt. I searched his book bag to find no letter.
Today the middle child had a birthday party. He sat in his car seat proudly clutching the present that he'd picked out for one of his best friends. As he is marginally more outgoing than his older brother, I had higher expectations than usual.
When I found out it was a third boy I scoured the internet for articles on what it would be like to be a mum of three boys. My search engine read 'coping with three boys', 'do you miss not having a daughter?', 'are boys close to their mums when they leave home?', like someone would confirm that I wouldn't be missing out by not having a girl.
I danced when I was younger. My mother was a dance teacher, so dance is in his blood, in his body. I felt that rather than force him to go to a lesson, I'd wait and let things unfold. My worry was that if I pushed him too soon, he'd be put off. He had to feel ready. He had to be enthusiastic. He had to want to do it.
In the parent training world this is the million dollar question (although unfortunately for my bank balance not literally). It's the number one thing I'm asked. How do I say no without starting World War 3?