“I can’t believe this is a boy!” Clara had taken a break from dancing so she could stand next to the kitchen table. She closed her eyes and wiggled to the music while attempting to navigate a heaping spoon of custard into her mouth.
“Who’s a boy, Clara?” Her mom asked from the kitchen.
Clara motioned into the air, “The man singing this song. I can’t believe it’s a boy, because it sounds like a girl.”
“Clara, this is a girl.”
She mashed custard between her lips, “No. It’s a boy. It just sounds like a girl.” She twirled back into the living room where she found me listening on the couch. “Dad, mom says this is a girl singing, but I say it’s a boy. What do you think?”
“Clara. This is a girl. Her name is Joanna. I can show you a picture if you would like.”
She shook her head. “No. We are just voting. I’ll go ask Lydia what she thinks.” She ducked her head and charged up the stairs.
“Clara, come back! That isn’t how voting works… or gender.”