“Aw, how old is he?”

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“Oh, bless his heart. How old is he?”

It never ceases to amaze me how many people can’t tell the difference between a boy toddler and a girl toddler unless they’re wearing blue or pink. I never noticed until I had a child, of course, but what’s so difficult? If the kid’s wearing a blue t-shirt or a jean jacket, well it must be a boy.

I suppose since Ellie’s hair grows straight and falls down her forehead, those going off the hair could be thrown off. But really, when there’s a barette and ruffles on her sleeves, that shouldn’t pose such a problem. The thing that really gets me is when she says hi to random people in line or on the street (one of the more unnerving traits she’s picked up recently) and they start to say one pronoun, only to catch themselves midway, and switch. “Oh, hi there! Hu–shu–aren’t you smart?”

And I just smile and say, “Yeah. It’s the dog food.”

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