Everywhere we have gone lately, The Buster has been called a girl.
Admittedly, his hair has gotten quite long, both back and front. His bangs are well below his eyes; he creates a little opening by pushing the curtains of his bangs over to each side whenever he wants to see.
Just this weekend, Uncle Zach said, “Zachy, your hair is outta control!” He said it in a funny, loving way, but I’m not saying he’s wrong.
Uncle George said he would have divorced me over Zachary’s hair by now because obviously I so dominate our marriage that Chris can’t adequately express his disapproval of Zachy’s hair. This, of course, makes us laugh. Uncle George will say most anything just to see what sort of a reaction he’ll get. Buds and I find him very funny.
Still, I grew up with an incredibly short haircut that had me always being called a boy. I detested it. So, I asked Buster if he minded that a lot of people had been referring to him as a girl.
(Side note, the most frequent thing we’d been hearing was, “Are all these girls yours?” in shocked disbelief, as if having three girls was unheard of.)
Buster looked at me with his typical sweet, funny face and said, “I’m not a girl. It doesn’t matter to me.”
And the great thing was, he didn’t care that people called him a girl. He didn’t see being called a girl as an insult in any way. It was just obvious to him that people were confused.
I do plan to trim up his bangs soon, though. He said he’s ready for them to be trimmed, and that’s what I was waiting for.
My brother asked why it wasn’t Chris’ decision if Zachary’s hair was cut, and I looked at him and said, “Because it’s Zachary’s hair.” He just shook his head in disbelief at my naïveté and I just smiled.