I know he's pretty. And I really don't take offense to it anymore. Your skin seems to get toughened after hearing it on a daily basis. But last night took the cake (or the birthday cake, as the case may be).
While at my birthday dinner, Asher charmed the waiters and surrounding customers. As always. He makes a game of getting people to smile at him. Several waiters fell prey to his cunning little game of I-just-droppped-my-bear-on-the-ground-can-you-get-it-for-me ploy. One particular waitress walked by and Asher caught her eye. And of course she obliged as well. And thennnn.....
She spent the next five minutes telling us how Asher was the most beautiful little girl she had ever seen. And how she "has two girls and wouldn't trade them for anything! Aren't little girls the best??? Mine only wear dresses. I bet she (meaning Asher) will do the same! You might want to trade her in at about 13 or so. hahaha" yada yada yada...girls, girls girls...
Awkward smile from Ben and I.
"Is this a girl or a boy? I am just now noticing that he is dressed in all blue."
As sweetly as I can, "Haha, yeah...I'm sorry. He's a boy."
I assured her we get that all the time. Because we do. ALL. THE. TIME.
I know my child is pretty. His eyes and curls make him look like a doll. But a BOY doll, people. A BOY DOLL!