I'm Not a Boy! ....Am I?

Okay, let's face it: my little girl looks like a boy. It doesn't help that I dress her in clothes bedecked with cars and trucks, but even when she's in gender-neutral clothes people think she's a boy. Heck, even when she's wearing a dress they think she's a boy, like it's the 1800s or something. The only time she's identified as unambiguously female is when she's wearing pink. Here's the weird thing: I'm pretty outspoken, so you'd think I'd be quick to correct people when they say, "He's so cute!" But I don't. It doesn't bother me at all. I think the sentiment is sweet, and why punish someone for a compliment with a reprimand, however gentle? My husband feels the same way. When she's older we might have to speak up to avoid giving her a complex, but for now, who cares? So we go out to breakfast every Sunday at the same place, where they make this fabulous thing called Cha-Cha Charritos (whole wheat tortilla stuffed with scrambled egg whites and black bean burger, covered with queso fresco and tomatillo salsa, doused with Cholula and dolloped with sour cream, good god my mouth is watering just describing it), and smile at people who comment on our darling little son. It's kind of fun to have a son sometimes, especially a sweet one who doesn't torture the dog.