I settled my six-year old on my knee and started into a pair of brilliant blue eyes. “Rowan,” I began. “I just want you to know something.”
“What’s that, daddy?” Rowan asked.
“When your father and I adopted you, we made a promise to never to label you with a gender or tell you who you have to be. If you like dresses, then you can wear dresses. If you like overalls, you can wear overalls. And if you like both, well, you can wear both. . . just probably not at the same time.”
“I like dresses,” Rowan told me, smiling.