Hey! It’s Amateur Day!
And me with a redheaded child. I can’t tell you how much I wish we did not have to leave the house today.
I’m going to keep count of how many people ask me if (or more likely, tell me that) Sam is Irish. No, actually. We’re pretty sure he is not. Granted, we do not know Will’s Dad’s heritage, but the rest of the family is Sicilian, English, Scottish, Dutch.
Last time we flew a woman behind us in line told us that Sam is Irish and she’s sure of it because she visited Ireland last year and blah blah blah and the guy behind her, we were delighted to find out, was actually Irish and just rolled his eyes at her. That was awesome.
Look, I know people just like to make conversation. But I have little tolerance for fools and telling me my kid has red hair is fucking stupid; telling me his heritage is just moronic. Why not stick to telling me he’s cute, or talking about the goddamn weather?
(P.S. Do I lose all right to be annoyed if I dress him in green today?)