Gender-Confused

I had the most fascinating, strange conversation with a 4-year old at work. This isn't a really deep, philosophical, thought-provoking conversation, just one with a teeny bit of shock factor that makes me laugh.

CHRISTOPHER: Are you a boy?
ME: Um. No, Chris, I'm a girl.
CHRISTOPHER: No! You're a boy! You can't be a girl!
ME: >raises one eyebrow< Why's that?
CHRISTOPHER: You don't have anything on your face! And >tugs my earlobe< nothing here!
ME: >ponders for a second, before understanding dawns< OH. Not all girls wear makeup and earrings, Chris.
CHRISTOPHER: Yes they do! >is quiet for moment, then looks up at me with a solemn, innocent, slightly confused expression< But... you're not pretty like a girl!
ME: >declines arguing further<

In clarification:

1. I don't wear makeup at all often, and the exception never falls on a work day. Mascara pretty much ends it, and even that I don't use with regularity. So he's right, I don't have a ton of stuff on my face. What you see is what you get. 
2. I sorta cross-dress, mildly, when I go to work. I wear guys jeans (okay, males out there, you've got it WAY easy. Your pants are COMFORTABLE), t-shirts that are a little too big, and tennis shoes.  
3. I don't wear jewelry to work, especially not earrings. The last thing I need is to be strangled or  have my earlobe ripped off because some kid decides my jewelry is a fun toy.
4. As far as prettiness goes, I'm in agreement with him. Especially if he thinks prettiness is determined by face paint and shiny metal hanging off your body.

So perhaps, to small children at least, I DO resemble a boy.
How very singular.

Brings to mind a few other stories that made me notorious for borrowing guys' pants, but I don't have time or the overwhelming desire to tell them.

-=Brenna=-