Stereotype for a Reason

Almost four years ago, my first baby was born, and the doctor announced "It's a boy!" Fast forward to the now, and there is no doubt in my mind, he is most definitely male. This is a conversation we had this morning:

"Mommy! Where are my gloves, I need my gloves, can you help me?"

Now, I happened to know for a fact that his gloves are on the floor by the front door. I watched him fling them off last night, in a last-gasp battle to avoid his bedtime. He was not forced to pick them up and put them away, because then his diversionary tactic would have worked.

"Mom, they're not there!"

Hmm, that's weird. I made a point to remember where the gloves landed, as I knew he'd be wanting them in the morning. Did he look on the floor, right by the door?

"Mommy, they're not there, can you help me?!"

Okay, okay. I haul myself out of the one moment of semi-private contemplation I get in my day (in the bathroom, if you must know!), and head off to find the gloves. I walk to the door, look to the floor, and see them in a crumpled pile, exactly where I said they'd be. Imagine that.

"Thanks, Mom!" He runs off to play, and I wonder if I can some how market my "amazing" ability to find things in plain sight.

Just so you don't think we're huge on gender stereotypes in our house, my son needed the gloves to complete his "Cruella Deville" costume, which includes a pair of my heels and a jacket he pretends is a fur coat. Until you see him in this getup saying "Mahhhvelous", like Cruella, you have no idea how cute this kid is, even if he does have man-disease.