It's amazing how much someone mistaking your little girl for a little boy - or vice versa I guess - can really get your goat.
Went into Oxford today and dressed little'un in one of the hundreds of new outfits which have been bought for her since she was born. It was a litle nippy, so I went for a cute chocolate brown ensemble, with little pink socks.
I first noticed something was wrong outside Primark, as I sat on a bench giving her a bottle, when a little old lady asked how old 'he' was.
'SHE'S six weeks" I said, a little surprised at how indignant I felt.
Later, in the Early Learning Centre, the assistant directed me towards the toy garages and said what a sweetie 'He' was.
Wiggling little'uns cute pink socks in her face, I announced 'SHE' would rather have a kitchen.
The assistant kissed goodbye to her sale and I left in a huff.