I Feel Pretty

Charlie has always been a cute kid. From the moment he was born, he looked perfect and well formed, never awkward or squishy and red. Are we biased? Definitely. But pictures don't lie, in his entire 4 years of life, there has not been one bad photo.

Gregory entered the world as blessed as his brother; color me biased again. Though his cuteness seems to be evolving into downright prettiness. At least once a week, people mistake him for a girl. Even dressed in camouflage pants, skull and crossbones t-shirt, baseball hat and black high top Chucks - an outfit that screams testosterone - someone will remark, "What a beautiful little girl. How old is she?" Maybe it's the eyelashes that touch his forehead, or those huge blue eyes, but I honestly don't get it.

Clearly there must be something there. The past week or so, Charlie has begun calling Gregory, 'Mrs. Bentney'. As with all things Charlie, we have no idea where this came from. But I'll be damned if Gregory doesn't come running like a servant when Charlie beckons, "Mrs. Bentney. Mrs. Bentney? MRS. BENTNEY! Come here this instant."

When asked why he calls Gregory Mrs. Bentney, his response, "I only call him that when I need help opening the door." I thought this would blow over, that Mrs. Bentney's novelty, and ineptness (the boy can't even turn a door knob), would wear off and he/she could go back to being just Gregory. But it seems Mrs. Bentney's responsibilities have only been added to. Last night when I was making dinner, Charlie came running in, breathless, holding a bunch of buckets, "Hey Mommy, do you need a bucket?"
No thanks, Charlie. I'm all set.
"Well, if you do, Mrs. Bentney's selling them out back and can get you one."

This morning I was even more confused when Charlie referred to Gregory as Stephanie. I thought the early hour had effected my hearing, until, "Stephanie, I need you to come and help me fill up this dump truck."
Though I hadn't an ounce of caffeine in me, I ventured down that road, So who's Stephanie?
"Gregory is Stephanie."
Where is Mrs. Bentney?
"No, Stephanie is Mrs. Bentney."
Then Gregory is Mrs. Stephanie Bentney?
"No, he's Mrs. Bentney Stephanie."
When do you call him Stephanie versus Mrs. Bentney?
"When I want to." His response was so matter of fact, like I had just asked Little Lord Fauntleroy when he would like his tea. He turns on his heel, heading into the the kitchen, casually calling over his shoulder, "Stephanie, it's time for breakfast. NOW!"

I do take comfort in that the relationship seems to have taken on a less formal tone. And at least he's feeding the help.