Check Under the Tail

We recently attended a church dinner. It was time again for the annual Strawberry Social. I don't know what it is about a church dinner that brings the old folks out in droves. Mike and I along with the handful of other young people were severely outnumbered. Maya had fallen asleep on the walk to church and Papa parked her in a convenient location along the wall before the influx of diners. Our plan was to grab the 4 adjacent seats so we would be nearby. Turns out the elderly possess a real pack mentality and can be quite territorial. Mike and Abby were sitting in 2 of the four seats we had in our possession while I checked on Maya and chatted with some neighbours about our glorioius new sidewalks. A gang of older folks approached the table and immediatley started discussing who was sitting where as if Mike and Abby didn't exsist. Mike politely tried to explain that we needed these seats to be close to our baby, but his pleas fell on deaf ears (literally I'm sure). They simply could not understand why Mike wouldn't shift over one seat so they could have our 4 seats and leave us with only a place for Mike to sit. Mike attempted to explain again, but the instant he opened his mouth they all started talking at once.
"Well Ethel can sit there"
"Maybel you sit across from Edgar"
"So how many seats do you need young man? We just need these four so if you move over one..."
"Yes these four are just perfect"

Michael knew he had been beaten so he just threw up his hands and walked away. So that's how we ended up sitting smack in the middle of the church hall. No where near Maya. Listening to the old folks complain about the price of... well just about everything. Comparing this church dinner to the last church dinner they had been too. Who had good strawberries this year, who's were too expensive. Papa and Grandma Linda were serving at the dinner so they had been given the job of keeping an ear out for Maya since she was parked in the vicinity of the kitchen. Somehow across that crowded noisy hall I heard Maya cry the moment she woke up. By the time I got across the hall to her I was just in time to hear one of the gang of seat stealing old folks ask a server... "Do you know who's baby that is? It's crying." Thanks for the heads up there Ethel. Even funnier was the fact that Papa was no more than 5 feet away from her and didn't hear a thing. I like to think I impressed him with my auditory skills. Aww hell, who am I kidding, I impressed myself.

So Maya in her pink sun dress and pink bib (remember this it will be improtant in a few sentences) headed back to the table with me. The little old ladies around us instantly eww-ed and aww-ed over her. Maya was her at her most adorable, grinning and chuckling at her many admirers. The sweet old lady to my left looked her up and down, "oh what a sweet baby, " she cooed. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

What I thought about saying:
A boy, but we're raising him as a girl.
I can see why all the pink would be confusing, but she's a girl.
I'm not really sure, we've never checked.
It might be time to get your glasses perscription checked.
We don't think children should be defined by their gender.

What I said:
Oh thank you. She's a girl.