Pink, Pink, Pink Means Freaking Girl

A baby dressed in a pink onesie, gray skinny jeans and pink socks is strolled into a grocery store by a mother, who yes, in the past has been mistaken for a boy, but now has blossomed into a woman.  (Well, at least is still nursing, and consequently, isn't leaving much to the imagination.)  This baby and mother encounter five different people through their course of shopping, and each time the comment is made, "My, what a cute boy you have!"  Once the mom regains consciousness after slipping into some dark places from her past, when salesclerks would tell her brothers what a cute little brother she was, she answers, and hates herself while doing it, "Gee, thanksss..."

So, random people, lend me your ear.  What's the deal?  Honestly, what do I need to do to drive home the point that my daughter is a girl?  Dress her in pink?  Oh wait.  Answer, "Well, I'm sure proud of HER?" Or, "I know, when SHE came out, I said to my husband, 'What a beautiful DAUGHTER we have been given?'"  Or are you asking me to do the unthinkable?  Are you "All I see are boys everywhere I look" people out there trying to tell me that I'm going to have to....I'm going to have to...I'm going to have to employ bows?  Huge bows?  Bows that NASA is going to ask me to stop wearing because they are mistaking them for new masses of land?  Is that what you are asking of me?

Well, I'm not sure I'm prepared to make such a move, but I am prepared to answer back next time someone tells me what a cute boy I have with, and this depends on who tells me - girls get: "Well, and same to you Mister."  And for the misguided boys, "Right back at ya, Little Lady."

What? I'm prepared to be hit in the face before my daughter goes down the bow road.