Everything can be fixed with a bouncy house...

It's a pretty well-known fact in our family circles that my daughter looks nothing like me, as she is a dead ringer for my husband in pretty much every way possible. She looks so much like my husband, in fact, that when we sent out our Christmas cards this year, Steve's aunt called his mother and said 'Why are they sending out Christmas cards of baby Steve in a dress?'

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Steve and I have this ongoing argument with each other about the color of Brigid's hair. I swear that it is brown, and that it will eventually darken to my hair color as she gets older, so that there will be at least one physical trait that ties her to me. Steve claims that it is blond, albeit a pretty dirty blond, and that it will stay that color forever, matching his own.

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Last weekend, Steve and Brigid were playing in the front yard, because our back yard is a bit of a disaster (we're working on it...), but it was too nice to stay in the house. I, however, was still in the house, dogproofing everything because my two beasts can't be trusted not to chew something up when left alone. By the time I made it out to join the goons in the yard, Steve was deep in conversation with a couple of neighbors from down the street, who'd been out walking with their two daughters. It turns out, these were the neighbors from the "cool" house, the one where everyone on my street hangs out. The one with all of the cool outdoor toys for the kids to play with. The one with a miniature BOUNCY HOUSE!!

The ones I've been wanting to meet forever.

Even better? They have a daughter one week older than Brigid.

Fate, people. That right there is fate.

Everything was going well. I was charming. Steve was charming. We were admiring each other's kids. They love our Halloween decorations every year. I exchanged email addresses with the wife, who told me that she's a SAHM, she loves to arrange playdates, and she would absolutely set something up for one of my Fridays off, with some other mothers on the street, so Brigid and I could make some friends. I was so excited about my ongoing transition from moderately awesome individual to suburban parent (who is still moderately awesome, of course...).

And then...

And then, as they were leaving, she took one last look at Brigid and said "Oh, she is just so adorable. And just look at her blond hair!"

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Later that day...

Steve (laughing, of course, because he takes pleasure in my displeasure): So, how annoyed were you when the neighbor commented on Brigid's blond hair?

Me: Oy, she's just lucky she comes with a bouncy house.