I said, “That’s a pretty girl you have.”
She said, “You’re talking about my son.”
I thought some flattery in order
To correct the faux pas I had done.

I said, “His mother! But you’re so young!
You surely mean that he’s your brother?”
She said, “Apology’s accepted
But I’m his dad, I’m not his mother!”

We prime timers often get gender confused. Our schools are full of outlandishly colored hair, wild lipstick, bare midriffs, multiple piercings and unbelievable eye shadows and the girls are just as bad. When our daughter, Ruthie, was in high school in Albuquerque. She was tall for a girl (she is now 6’2″) and quite trim. She had her hair cut in what I think was called a Page Boy. My wife Ruth and I were standing in the school hall, waiting for her after class one day, and talking to one of the teachers. He glanced down the hall and saw Ruthie starting to go into the restroom. He called out, “Son, that’s the girls restroom!” Ruthie was very comfortable in her femininity so it didn’t bother her We all had a good laugh at the teacher’s expense. Ruthie is now a mother with three grown children. She has just recently started having thoughts of grandchildren dancing through her head, as her daughter is getting married. When you get as old as I am, and make the gender mistake, you can always blame it on poor eyesight. The poor fellow in Gender Offender tried to cover up his mistake but only made it worse.