The other day as little W and I were walking into our local grocery store, we were stopped by an elderly gentleman who reached out to my son with a very warm greeting of “Hey, pretty girl!”
There was a brief, but awkward silence.
“Boy”, the man’s wife scolded, “It’s a boy.”
The man shook his head, looked at me, and with a knowing nod said “Girl, right?”.
“Um, he’s a boy.”
“Well, God bless you!”, said the man.
“Thank you!”, and we moved along…shaken, but not altogether dismayed.
All was forgotten until we got to the check-out line. Little W was flashing his sweet little smile at the woman in line in front of us, who laughingly asked me “How old is she?”
“Um, he’s a boy, and he’s 11 months old” was my immediate reply.
For some reason I felt a strong need to clarify his gender before answering her question…as though it was my role to defend his manliness, even at this young age.
Of course, being asked twice in a matter of 40 minutes if your boy is a girl is enough to ruffle a mother’s feathers and cause her to wonder what she’d done wrong with his attire or grooming to cause such confusion. I immediately came home and asked my husband if I was dressing our son like a girl, and he calmly reassured me that I had done nothing of the sort.
Now it’s your turn: reassure me.
Here is what Little W was wearing at said outing. Tell me, tell me true (or not, if it would make me feel better…you know what answer I want to hear): does he look like a girl to you?!
DIDN’T THINK SO!