Dear Rafi,
I know that our conversations to date have centred on food, toys, sleep (or lack thereof) and your penchant for electrical cords. But today I want to talk to you about something else.
I want to talk to you about women.
Darling, while you may only be 9-months-old, gender bias has already begun playing itself out in your little world, the same way it does in Mummy and Daddy’s big one.
It began when you were born. The waitress at our local café gave me a bemused guffaw when I explained that you were in fact a boy, despite your pink and gold sparkly jumpsuit. A stranger on a plane advised me to ‘be careful he doesn’t grow up soft’, as you made those gentle, cooing noises to your favourite toy doggy.