gendermom

Private-PropertyM.’s dad and I toured a new afterschool program this week. M.’s neighborhood pal, Poppy, goes there, and we thought it would simplify things if M. went, too.

We arrived a little early for the tour, and the director looked at her watch and said, “Oh, I’m so glad you’re early.  Let’s sit down and talk.” Great!  We could get our questions answered about the school before the other parents arrived.

We sat in tiny chairs at a tiny table.  She crossed her hands and gave us a serious look.  “So. M. is ‘trans,’ right?  Is that  the right word?  ‘Trans?'”

Huh? I thought we were going to talk about their art program.

Sigh.

“Yes,” I said. “M. is transgender.”

When I called to schedule the tour, I hadn’t thought about the fact that the director’s step-son used to live two doors down from us, beyond the fact that…

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