I Wish I Had a Medal to Give Him
Today was a long, long day for the Frank family. Jude was up before 7am, we had to travel to the heart of downtown Chicago for our chiropractor’s appointment, and as if that wasn’t enough to qualify today as being a “long” day, we extended our downtown trip by about three hours by heading over to the Chicago Children’s Museum for an afternoon of fun. Jude, despite having woken up early and only napping for about 40 minutes, was in fantastic spirits, so we even had time to have a yummy lunch at a brew pub at Navy Pier. He had an awesome time playing at the museum… I think he liked the Snow Much Fun exhibit best.
So, although it was a (very) tiring day, it was also a pretty fantastic day for my family.
The highlight of the trip (for me at least), came during lunch. Jude was sitting in his highchair, eating and talking to everyone around him, when the manager of the place came over, smiled and said, “How old is he?”
Did you catch that, people of the internets? The manager said, “How old is he?
Finally! Someone in this godforsaken city recognized my son as being male!
It’s not that I’m offended when people tell me my little girl is beautiful. I get it. His hair is on the long side and it’s a bit curly. He’s really adorable…really beautiful. I just find it funny that person after person after person can somehow ignore the stereotypical “boy” colors he wears and the little boy shoes he has on. God forbid I put the little guy in red! That confuses them to the point of arguing with me over his sex. That being said, having to continually correct people (“He. He’s a little boy.” *insert smile*) has worn me down a bit. And, to be completely honest, when Mr. Manager Guy recognized that the child sitting next to me in the highchair was indeed a boy, I could have kissed him…or at least given him a medal.
Jude takes after his great grandfather.I was always taken for a girl when I was his age.Evidently he’s bound to grow out of it. Love you
People’s stereotypes are so difficult to overcome. Just because we keep Dasha’s hair in a short bowl cut, and occasionally dress her in something other than pink, SO many people assume she’s a boy. which is incomprehensible to me, seeing as she’s got some of the most delicate features I’ve ever seen on a baby.
Just our luck, our next one will be a boy whom everyone assumes is a girl! Oh, American culture … how you have warped us all.