You Tell 'Em, Big Brother

The woman behind the counter at the consignment shop today took a very keen interest in Zoe's birthmark.

"Oh no! The poor dear bumped her little head!"

Seriously, if I had a nickel for every time someone made this assumption, I would be rich. It really has taught me that it's very easy to say something that seems caring, and have it come across as just annoying and judgmental to the receiving party.

I politely explained for the 1,678,892nd time, "No, it's just a birthmark."

"Oh, I see that now. But how did she get that bruise? Poor dear!"

At this point, I'm a little aggravated. Mostly, because Zoe is getting old enough to understand this. I know she does, and I know that this particular time the attention is making her uncomfortable. I wish I could use words to frame the look on her face accurately. It was a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance, with her eyes narrowed slightly, and her head tilted slightly down and sideways.

I said, "She's fine. It's just a birthmark, and she'll grow out of it. She's perfect & beautiful just like she is though!" I smiled and gave Zoe a squeeze. Zoe smiled back at me.

So, I thought this was going to be like EVERY other time someone makes a comment. They withdraw in embarrassment, and make some comment such as, "Oh, I gotcha. Well, I'm glad she's not hurt!" I think most people really are genuinely trying to be nice, or make conversation or whatnot. It's just annoying!

Well...the woman took me aback when instead of dropping the subject, she proceeded even further.

"Why, little dear, you're a little unicorn! Oh yes, just a little unicorn growing there!"

I'm not kidding, Zoe's look changed from annoyance to anger. She jerked her head around and laid it on my shoulder.

Meanwhile, I played back what she just said. A unicorn!? WHAT?! Ok, I guess she was trying to be cute, but this really had me flustered. She's not growing a magical horn out of her head!! I like to pretend, but I just didn't like this at all. And, I didn't know how to be nice.

Before I could even blink, or close my mouth Ian took a step forward and thrust his chest out at the woman.

"She is NOT a unicorn. She is a goat! My sister is not a unicorn. A goat. A gooooooat." He dragged the word out the second time as if the woman was dense. (Hm, could I really blame him?). And he stared at her with intensity and finality.

Zoe immediately lifted her head and smiled at her brother. The woman behind the counter looked at me suspiciously. "A GOAT?"

"Yes, he is right. She is our little goat," and Zoe smiled even bigger. The woman scowled at me and withdrew behind the counter, and I was able to walk away laughing. Thank you, Ian, for reminding me not to take life so seriously.

For Zoe is indeed our little goat. The first little cries she let out sounded like a goat's bleating, and Matt and I laughed and joked at our little goat baby. As time goes on and she still continues to chew everything in sight and climb furniture with the nimbleness of those sure-footed white mountain goats, the nickname suits her even more.

I am reminded in yet another way how powerful words can be.

Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof. -Proverbs 18:21

And, next time someone asks me about Zoe's birthmark, maybe I'll just let Big Brother handle the situation. :)