I resent the impact your traditional home is having upon my child.

Ann is surprisingly traditional in her ideas about family, no matter how I try to expand her world.  For example, the other night we were working on identifying letters.  She has NO time for this and generally ignores me when I ask: "Tell me Ann, what starts with T?  T-t-t-t-...........? T-t-t-t-.........tiger?  T-t-t-t-toast?".
T-t-totally stonewalls me.  So I was surprised last night when she was all into the letter 'P'.  "What starts with 'p' Ann?  P-p-p-...penguin?"  I was delighted when her eyes lit up with interest.  "What else starts with 'p' Ann? P-p-p-p..?"

"Daddy penguin!"

"Well... I guess so.  Another penguin that's a daddy does still start with 'p'.  I suppose technically we're spelling the actual noun.  But I feel like you're missing the point.  What else starts with 'p'?  What about..p-p-p-popsic....."

"Mommy penguin!"

"Well, yea, but-"

"Baby penguin!  Gramma penguin?  Grampa penguin!"

Learning our letters has become a frustrating and increasingly pointless activity.   All this nuclear family fixation is impenetrable.  Everything needs to be broken down into its components of mommy, daddy, baby, gramma, grampa.  Anything we see- kitties on the street, crabs in the tank at the grocery store, fish at the aquarium (and there are a LOT of fish at the aquarium) need to be classified by her taxonomic little mind.  Demoralizing, given the emphasis I have put on alternative family examples with her toys, her stories, her real-time role models.  But no, pieces of rice cake are sorted according to size and relegated into their domestic roles.  Story-time has become another excrutiating affair:

"One day, Bird and Raccoon were playing ball, but then Raccoon accidentally hit Bird with a ball!"

"Little ball!"

"It is a smaller size isn't it?"

"Baby ball!"

Well, I suppose comparatively speaking--"

"Where Mommy ball?"

"Well..."

"Where Baby Ball's Mommy?"

"Well...  I don't know honey."

"Where Daddy Ball?"

Well..."

"At Gramma Ball's house?  Where Gramma Ball?"

You could see how this extremely frustrating line of questioning could go on forever before I were to even get past that first page.  I suppose I could try to explain that the ball is an inanimate object that was created by a manufacturing plant from its components of different plastics with high carbon content.  Therefore having no mother or father.  Seems a bit heavy and exhausting for a Thursday night story session though.

After the stories are finished, the daily rendition of 'Old MacDonald' goes on for effing ever because with each new animal, we also have to include all applicable members of the immediate and extended family.  And the McDonald farm is pretty large in our house.  Many, many different species of poultry.  It is getting quite tricky to get her into bed before prime-time tv starts.  Some nights have been touch-and-go.

I suppose that when she is a bit older we can have some more in-depth conversations about non-traditional families, but for the moment she just stares at me blankly when I describe rates of 19% homosexuality in mallards.  And you know that homosexuality in mallards will just segue to conversations about other animal sexual behaviours.

You're right.  I should probably just wait until she's at least in kindergarten.