“Oh my god, he’s so fluffy!” I was excited to meet his dog. I had been friends with Dustin since junior high school yet this was my first time to his house.

“Do you need the gender bunny?” He asked unabashedly.

I looked at him, his hand rather close to my face with his pointer and middle finger in a “V,” assumedly mimicking the shape of rabbit ears.

“No.” I retorted, slightly frustrated that he called me out on my misgendering of a dog.

It was an unspoken childhood rule that masculine pronouns were for dogs and feminine pronouns were for cats, unless otherwise specified. I wanted to explain that I was raised to label certain items with pointless gendered terms - even objects sans gender, like cars and trucks. But I knew explaining my weird childhood wasn’t going to help the situation. It was a simple mistake; I wasn’t trying to purposely question the femininity of his Australian Shepherd.

He slowly lowered his makeshift rabbit, keeping his eyes on me as though I was trying to insinuate something about his pet that I couldn’t quite figure out. I rolled my eyes at him, smiled acerbically and went back to petting his dog.

Eventually, the gender bunny made appearances during random discussions. I would accidently slip on the gendering of a person or animal or vehicle, and he would ask me if I needed the gender bunny. He would hold up his hand in the shape of rabbit ears and sometimes he would even make it “hop.”.

I wasn’t the only one to make simple slip ups. On occasion I would have the opportunity to present him with our proverbial quandary - the gender bunny.

No matter the circumstance, we would always reply in the negative, stating that the gender bunny was not in fact needed. This became something that was just between us, even after we got married and had children.

I never thought about what the proper response would be - had the gender bunny actually been required. Usually the question itself was enough to make one reconsider the gendered term that had been utilized.

Until one day when the gender bunny was requested.

It happened when we were at the local Target with our children. We had two daughters, who we were raising within the socially mandated gender binary. The cashier at the checkout did not fit within this binary and even though we had not noticed, our eldest child had.

Katelyn started tugging on my shirt. I turned to her to see if she needed to use the restroom, as it is the tradition of humans under the age of 5 to visit each restroom within every establishment that is visited. Yet her request was quite different.

She asked me for the gender bunny. She was struggling with categorizing our cashier.

Our youngest, Madelyn, overheard her sister and began to stare with the sole intent of figuring it out on her own. I looked at the cashier for clues to tell me how they identified, in order to give my child one of the two answers that she would be able to comprehend without more audible questions.

I caught a glimpse of their name tag – Sarah. I felt a moment of relief. Yet I knew that didn’t necessarily mean that individual identified as female. I wanted to tell my daughters that the only person who could tell them how Sarah identified was Sarah. However, I knew that would lead to my daughters asking Sarah – point blank – if they were a boy or a girl. I didn’t want to force Sarah to become a teachable moment for my children. It wasn’t Sarah’s responsibility to teach my children about gender - it was mine.

I just thought I had more time. Yet here I stood with two little girls under 5 years old, tripping over my words.

I wanted to explain to them that it didn’t matter how Sarah identified. I wanted to explain to them how insignificant gender is – it doesn’t determine worth. Yet at the same exact time it is vitally important, as gender casts certain people into a place of discrimination yet it can also shape identity. I wanted to explain so much more than I even understood at the time, about social constructs and imaginary boundaries.

And how Sarah’s gender was absolutely none of our business.

The gender bunny hopped alongside the shopping cart as we headed toward the car.