We were in the local cornershop and number one son was, as usual, in his own four-year-old world, standing dreamily in the middle of the aisle, obstructing a big long-haired biker type of man. I shuffled elder son past the biker and on towards the exit, telling him to make way for the gentleman.
To which came the reply, in the ringingly piercing tones that four-year-olds specialise in, 'That's not a gentleman, that's a lady.'
Some quick explanations along the lines that hair length does not necessarily reflect gender and we were out of the door. The biker took it all in good part, however, I'm pleased to say.
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