When K was a baby, my wife and I took it upon ourselves to name her toys and stuffed animals- because, I mean, they needed names: how else would they know when we were talking to/about them?
As she's gotten older, we've relinquished (although begrudgingly) naming rights to K. For quite a while, creativity was not paramount in naming an object. A baby was "Baby," a dog was "Doggie," etc. As her creativity has increased, so has her awareness and importance that these stuffed animals have specific genders- and generally she pitches toward her toy friends being female.
So, when someone new comes on the seen (which is often as K forms no real lasting bonds with her stuffed comrades), my predilection is to call whatever it is a he. "What his name?" "Where did you put him?" Unless of course it's a pink cat, or if it's a rabbit with bows in its hair- then, I mean, of course it's a girl. I know. I'm unwittingly forcing my gender identification on these unsuspecting and undeserving stuffies.
For a while it went unnoticed- but now I'm being corrected. As in the case of "Sheepo" a little stuffed hamster, that came with its own little pet carrier and everything. K and I (and Sheepo) were on the train the other day, and I asked a question about "him." Realizing what I was doing, I checked myself by inquiring of Sheepo's gender.
"She's a girl, Dad," K replied, "Otherwise her name would be "Hee-po."
Boom. I got schooled. It was a hilarious insight into her reasoning process, and yet another step in the learning process of a father raising a daughter. I hope she keeps this sharp, comical edge to her- and that however she identifies herself in this world, she does so with confidence.