Waltzing Matilda

yes, this song has such a degree of folklore buildup that it was awarded its own museum, Waltzing Matilda Centre in Winton, Queensland. this is not the point.
it's been south pole cold in portland the last few days, which has made it difficult to take penelope beatrice out into the world to learn. she is a sponge for the observational knowledge of our world, and can't be hampered by the frigid winds. maybe the mail person was in fact the late Ernest H. Shakelton , returning only to sire a daughter with his curiosity of a puffin. or is this just how children are?
people don't include stories or even a folklore legend for that matter. it's all untraveled trial by crying. or is it fire?
alas, we have been riding the max downtown to the end of fairless square, only to walk across the red bricks and ride back to where we came from. along the way we are privy to some unintentional easy dropping and the occasional conversation. the ease dropped info can truly span the gambit: work relations, drug relations, breakfast plans, sex plans, and even conversations with no apparent listener present.
as for the conversation part, it all generally revolves around penelope beatrice and what she looks like. as i understand it, once you become a parent your brains and heart turn to shit and no one wants to talk to or about you any longer.
the best part of all of this is watching folks search for signs of penelope beatrice's gender or sex. most people don't know what to call her, and i love watching their discomfort in trying to get around the gendered portion of their comments. it has given me conviction to help her remain as androgynous as possible. i think the key is to teach her the joy of observing the reactions of others as they try to find a culturally appropriate way to approach her in conversation.
if nothing else, this experiment will give her something to talk to a therapist about in the future, and we all know therapists are experiencing a shortage of childhood scars to mend.