Sometimes, it’s a child

Sometimes, it’s a child

The other evening K and I went to our favorite dinner spot, a local Bavarian restaurant and bar for a date night. Behind us sat a small girl, about 4 or 5 with what looked like her grandparents. They looked exhausted and in my head I imagined that they were watching her for the day and that she was wearing them out. She kept up a running stream of chatter and was up and down off of her chair, dancing for a few minutes before climbing back up to show the grandparents something interesting. She was a cute little girl, glasses, pigtails and a very large pink backpack.

We exchanged waves and smiles with her during our dinner and as the family stood to leave, she skips up to our table.

“Hi” she says beaming. “See my shoes?”

We both complimented her on her sparkly shoes. They were very nice indeed.

Without missing a beat she looks at K and asks, “Are you a boy or a girl?”

Grandfather almost turned inside out with that question and started to sputter and turn red in the background as he rushed to the table to apologize.

K just smiled at the little girl and answered, “I’m a girl”.

The little girl said, “Ok, bye!” and off she went to put on her coat.

There was no need for the grandparents to apologize or hustle her away from our table. Such a simple, honest question.

There was nothing wrong with asking such an innocent question. She didn’t know so she asked. I am sure that if K had answered boy, both, or neither the little girl would have been just as accepting. Maybe a few more questions but that’s it.

How come everyone can’t be that accepting?

 

 

 

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