At the park

Three minutes after that last post the phone rang and the boys were at the park - could I come too? And not two minutes after I got there, The Man remembered that he had to go to work and hopped off and there I was, alone with a child at the park.

This is not exactly a problem, of course, but I am total homebody and would prefer to be in the comfort of my tiny abode at all times, and some day I will make a wonderful hermit and sit here crabbing about the state of things these days. But for now I do try and get out now and again.

So there we are, The Boy running about madly with a few other children, and there's one in particular that seems friendly and fun and they play for a while. She looks about three, about the same age, with long curly hair and bangs. After about twenty minutes of play, there does come a few skirmishes between the two, and the mother calls over from the sidelines a name that sounds like "Ash ... " something. Ash something. I can't distinguish.

I'm having a fine time, and the kids are too, but as the play picks up the two kids need some more intervention -- Ash-something chases a lot, and then grabs, and the chasing is appreciated but the grabbing is not. Eventually the mom comes over too, and we start chatting. "How old is he?" she asks me, and I reply, and then I ask, "How old is she?"

"He's a boy," she says.

Oh.

Well, easy mistake, right? The kid is dressed non-descriptly, has a name that could go either way, and has long curly hair and bangs. I apologize, of course. We chat some more, and it turns out that Ash-something is heading to one of the centres in the daycare complex The Boy goes to next week -- first time ever in care, the mom seems nervous. I mention that we've been there for a while, and had a great experience.

"Oh yeah," she says. "I went and visited and was really impressed with the feng shui of the place."

???

Now I realize this is really important to some people, but I really do think that up there on your list of priorities might be, oh, I don't know ... toys? Good people? Good facilities?

But you know ... whatever. To each his own.

We chat a little more, here and there, and I ask if she's ever cut Ash-something's hair. She points out the bangs, which I had noticed. "Because it was getting in his eyes." and then notes that she's heard that you shouldn't cut children's hair because it is psychologically damaging to them. Not until age six, she says.

And then hastily tells me that lots of people cut their kids hair, and I probably haven't harmed my child.

I smile politely and nod. "I don't think he's too terribly damaged," I reply.

* * * * * *

A short while later Ash-something is being prepared to go, and his mother picks up his sand toys, one of which is a large shovel with pictures of Disney princesses on it. She holds it up. "Is this why you thought he was a girl?" she asks.

I smile and kind of incline my head. Sure lady. That and the HAIR THAT'S NEARLY TO HIS BUTT.

I mean, The Man has long hair, one of my favourite uncles had long hair for years when I was a kid. I have no problem with it. But I'm sorry, when your kid is three, you have to expect that other people will think he is a girl when he has really long hair.

Just sayin'.

Also? DISNEY PRINCESS SHOVELS? I think we've GONE TOO FAR.