This morning, lying in bed, I passed Grace over to her father. When she saw him, she grinned the type of enormous grin that splits her face in two. Oh, she is so beautiful.
“Every day’s pretty much Christmas for her, isn’t it?” he remarked.
My sister had Grace in the Ergo and I was carrying Sam on my hip. A middle aged woman–
Digression: When I was a kid, middle aged meant late 30s-40s. Now, it most certainly does not mean any such thing. This woman was at least as old as my parents.
Further digression: oh hey, apparently middle aged means whatever age my parents are.
–stopped us to ask if they are brother and sister. “You look like a movie star!” she said to Sam.
“And where did they get their red hair?” she asked. “Their Grandmother,” my sister said.
“Oh, he’s so cute,” the woman said, looking right at Grace. Yeah, she thought they were brother and sister and Sam was the sister. Oh well. At this point I just think it is funny.
She turned back to Sam. “You be good for your moms.”
Yup. It’s taken nearly 32 years, but I have finally been mistaken for a lesbian.