That’s my boy…

Today Eliza and I took a trip back to King’s College Hospital for my final post-pregnancy appointment at the haematology clinic. It was strange being back with a baby this time, especially considering the amount of time I’d spent there before she put in an appearance.

Anyway, here’s a conversation which took place today, with the doctor who had met her pretty soon after she was born:

Doctor – peering into pram: “Oh look at YOU, you’ve changed so much – you look like a proper little boy now!”

Me: “She’s a girl…”

Doctor: ‘I know!”

Mistaking her for a him has been a common theme recently; it happens a lot when random strangers stop and talk to us in shops when we’re out and about (people are so lovely when you have a baby, it is most un-London like). I think it’s mainly because she has a more-than-healthy head of hair, and unless she’s wearing top-to-toe pink people assume otherwise – and I much prefer to dress her in a whole spectrum of bright colours and patterns.

However, following the conversation today at the hospital I think it might finally be time to bring out more drastic measures, such as her completely ridiculous giant hairband (bought from H&M – such brilliant baby clothes).

Poor Eliza, or, as Alex is fond of ironically saying at the moment, “that’s my boy”.