Monday, October 1, 2007
Today Lucas and I were at the store when a sweet elderly woman came up to us and started going on and on about what a beautiful baby girl I had. She is so precious. Such a pretty little girl. You must be so happy to have such a sweet little daughter. And I, being the nice person that I am, never corrected her. I've had three babies, and all of them have been addressed as the wrong gender at some point. To me, it isn't a big deal, so I just smile, say thank you, and move on. To this lady's credit, Lucas was wearing a plain red onesie which is not very helpful in gender identification. (I do feel slightly annoyed when some stranger starts telling me what a cute little girl I have when my baby is sitting there in a royal blue outfit with the words "Tough Guy" emblazoned boldly across the front. But still, I never correct them.) Anyway, the lady had gone on for some time about my cute "girl" when she asked, "What is her name?" Now I had a dilemma. In the flash of a second I debated whether I should I tell her after all this time that he is really a boy, or maybe I should just make up a girl name instead. I shrugged sheepishly and said, "Well, he is really a boy and his name is Lucas, but don't feel bad that you thought he was a girl. It's really hard to tell." Thankfully, she didn't seem upset that I had not told her earlier.