Three times in one day this weekend Lincoln was mistaken for a girl. First off, I don’t care. I understand it’s difficult to tell sometimes (apparently, even when the boy is wearing a football shirt). I told him just last week he should have been born a girl--it’s not fair for those eyelashes and curls to be on a boy who won’t appreciate it.

My friend also has a boy, and the same thing has happened to her. One time, he was wearing blue. Another time, he had a football shirt on. One other time was just after he had a haircut. Her boy looks like a boy to me—more than my boy does. Is that because I already know?

Again, I really don’t care. These are people I’ll know for a minute in the checkout line. My problem comes when they realize he’s a boy and they start apologizing or explaining themselves. It’s uncomfortable, and usually the explanation in more offensive that the original mistake. They’re embarrassed and I have to console them, and I end up looking like a weirdo because I let them go on and call my boy a girl. (One lady kept on telling him how “us women” need to keep the boys on their toes. Little did she know she was giving away our secrets to a man...then she realized he was a boy. I spend the whole time checking out and the walk through the parking lot telling her it was OK.)

When it first happens, I just pray they don’t realize their mistake so we can just all go about our business. Pleeeease stop talking to us. Just turn around. You’ll never know. This never happened.

Would you or have you corrected people?

I don’t because I have a huge fear of coming off nasty. When I get uncomfortable or have to correct someone, the tone sometimes comes out wrong. They’re nice people. I don’t blame them. Honestly, I don’t care!

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Erin Hill is a first-time mom to Lincoln, who was born in January 2010. She's learning as she goes and is experiencing everything a new mom goes through while seeing the humor, irony, and enjoyment in her adventures.

Erin is a full-time technical writer and features freelance writer in her "spare time." She lives in Plum with Lincoln, her husband, Adam, their dog, Roxie, and five (yes, five) cats, Nirvana, Gary Roberts, Elvis, Talbot and Forrest.