That Was a New One

As a southern transplant up here in Yankeeville (and I mean that in the most loving way possible), I've gotten used to comments like "Where are you from?" or "You sound country."  I've even grown accustomed to the cab drivers who think a southern accent is a British or Australian one (strange, isn't it?).  Since having Andrew, I've learned to regard as ordinary the multitudinous comments about his peculiar, southern-style clothing.  Things like "Look, they made those airplanes on his shirt out of thread!" or "Oh, you must be from Georgia.  I have a friend from Georgia and she dresses her kids like that, too."

So when I took Andrew, all decked out in his be-Christmased attire--button-on shorts, smocked shirt, knee socks and all--to see Santa...

I was prepared. 

But when a kind lady inquired if I was from Germany, and then went on to insist that I must be German since I had my child dressed in lederhosen, that...well, that was a new one.