The Baby Boy Bias

Last week, during our family vacation in Seattle, a man approached me and Annabelle at the Chihuly Garden and Glass Exhibition.

"Hey," he said. "I saw you yesterday. I recognize your (San Francisco) Giants hat."

"Oh, yeah, right," I said.

"Yeah, you were reading to your son in the library. I wanted to yell, 'Go Giants,' but it was a library and all."

"Oh, it couldn't have been me then," I said. "I don't have a son. This is my daughter, Annabelle."

"Oh, right, whatever. Well, yeah, go Giants!"

Then he walked away. I chuckled at first, but then I thought, wait, no. No, dude. Not whatever. There's a big difference in what you just said. What if I walked up to you and said, "Excuse me, miss"? So, no. Not whatever.

Baby boy bias, that is, the belief that every father wants only sons and that every small baby who doesn't have super long hair and earrings is a male, is very real. I started experiencing it long before Annabelle was born and now, a full 9 1/2 months later, it's still popping up almost weekly.

It started about halfway through Bridget's pregnancy, when we found out the little bump in her belly was made of sugar and spice. I said I didn't care if it was a boy or a girl, and I meant it. But some of my friends didn't believe me. Come on, they said, you tell everyone you don't care because that's what you're supposed to say. But you want a boy, right? Everyone wants a boy.

But why? Why does everyone want a boy?

So I can teach him how to play sports? (Girls play sports.) So I can relate to him? (Dads relate to daughters.) So we can become best friends? (I fully intend to be best friends with Annabelle.) Because I rule over the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros and need a male heir to sit on the Iron Throne? (That's silly, but what a great season finale, right?)

Since Annabelle was born, things have gotten even worse with the baby boy bias. When he walk down the street, people ask about the "little guy's" name. In elevators, they ask us how old "he" is. And when Annabelle wears a blue shirt (like the one in the photo above)? Forget about it. The shirt might as well read: "100% Stud. Proceed with Caution."

Now, sure, I'll admit that Annabelle's gender isn't immediately clear. She's mostly just a squishy lump with a wispy head of hair and no teeth. But why does everyone always think boy first and girl second? Does she need to wear all pink all the time? Tiny, little pig tails? Or should we just get her high heels and a mini skirt, and teach her how to wear mascara?

We hope to have another child someday. And yes, part of me wants it to be a boy. I'd say just about 50 percent of me. The other 50 percent is hoping for another girl. Either way, if they are anything like Annabelle, they'll be absolutely perfect.

In the meantime, I'll just keep correcting people and hope the ripple effect will make people think twice before immediately fist-bumping my little slugger. (And by the way, girls hit home runs, too.)