So, the number one book in Happy’s going-to-bed ritual right now is Machines at Work.
The other day, BF came out from putting Happy down shaking his head.
“What up?” I asked.
“We had to have a talk about girls and boys.”
“Oh?” I asked, terribly curious.
“So, there’s this page in Machines at Work that has a group of workers all lined up eating lunch, and Happy went through all the workers saying, ‘He’s eating. He’s eating. She’s eating. He’s eating. She’s eating. He’s eating.’ And he totally identified the girls as the ones with LONG hair.” BF exclaimed, totally offended. “So, just to be sure, I asked him why he thought those two workers were girls and he said because of their hair. And so I had to tell him that boys can have long hair, too (guess, Happy hasn’t looked in the mirror lately) and that he can’t make the assumptions about people based on their hair.”
“You said assumptions?” I asked, amused by more than just that.
“No. No, I didn’t say assumptions. I said judge. And, really, that’s what you have to say to me? Aren’t you going to tell me that I did good?”
“It’s a gender issue. Aren’t you glad I pointed that out to him?” He looked at me expectantly. “What would you have said?” He asked.
“That, yes, indeed, women work construction.”