If one more kindly, well-meaning stranger tells me what a pretty little girl my son is, I might just lose it.
Yes, I realize that he has long curly hair and his older sister's face. Libby often cracks herself up by saying that her baby pictures look like John wearing a dress. And I admit that if he were wearing a dress, he would arguably look like a little girl.
But I never do dress him up in dresses. I dress him in very manly brown and green and blue clothes with footballs or trucks or puppy dogs on them! Clearly not the clothing of a little girl!
So seriously, people, throw me a bone! Tell me how ruggedly handsome and masculine my obviously male child is! Because if one more of my husband's flag football friends says "Dude, I didn't know you had three little girls. I thought your youngest was a boy" he is going to make me cut all of these beautiful baby curls off!
And then I will have to cry.
And you will have to live with the guilt of turning my baby into a grown-up little boy.
Can you live with that?!