I don’t want to be a grandpa

Driving down to meet some friends today, an anguished voice piped up from the back seat – “Mum, I don’t want to be a grandpa. And I’ll never be a grandma because of how I look”

What do you say to your four year old child when they voice something like this? When they’re in the middle of socially transitioning and they know that “real” girls have different bits from their bits?   When your heart is breaking because you see a harder road ahead than you ever want your child to travel.  When you want to give them the possibilities other kids have, but don’t know if that will be possible for them anymore?
I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon, trying to make sense of this topsy turvy new reality we find ourselves in. Feeling all sorts of angry and sad.  

Angry and sad until I realised – nothing’s actually changed. After all, I don’t know Freddie’s future any more than I know Izzy’s.  

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