“Where is his mommy?” my daughter asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “It looks like he is old enough to walk the dog by himself.”
“Maybe she is in the kitchen,” she said.
Hold on. What? Her default mommy location is in the kitchen? My feminist alarms blazing, I responded a little drastically.
“Maybe. Or maybe she’s in the garage building something with tools.”
My example had some context. A…
