But that doesn’t mean I want your germy greasy hands all over my baby in the middle of the produce section!
Screamin’ Jesus, Lady! Not only do I not know you or your grimy little snot-nosed children, nor what illnesses you’ve been having around your house lately, but you’ve been handling produce with massive amounts of pesticides sprayed all over them, and your charming little Satan Spawn just wiped his snotty nose with his hand before you tell him to come over and “see” the little baby? And why in the name of all that’s putrid would you then tell him to hold her little bitty hand?
She’s a premie! I told you that already when you first asked me how old she is! I just said she weighed less than 2 pounds when she was born! That means she’s had a lot of health scares in her 5 months on this earth and I don’t need another visit to the ER if she gets a simple respiratory infection, thank you. She doesn’t need to be in a plastic bubble, but it’d be nice if I had some illusion of control over who gets to touch my kid! And while I’m wearing her in a sling, no less, which means you’re WAY invading my personal space to get to her.
Oh, and the the next four women, three teenaged girls and two snotty nosed school-aged kids (and a partridge in a pear tree!) who did the same exact thing? FUCK OFF! MY BABY! MINE, MY PRECIOUSSSSSSS!!!
(Seriously, is this some sort of African-American thing that it’s OK to do, because I’ve been taking her out for walks and shopping for a month now, and this has never happened until I went into Rogers Park. It was like she was Jesus walking through the leper colony.)
I love it when people ask about her. Everyone asks how old she is, because she seems too little to be out and about. Sometimes I feel like striking up a conversation and tell them she’s a premie. Sometimes, I just lie and say she’s a month old (usually if I’m in a hurry or if the asker creeps me out, honestly). I welcome your well-wishes, your prayers, your compliments on her cussed cuteness. But keep your bloody hands to yourself unless I ask you to hold her, please!
(I’m really no good at the sustianed vitrol needed for the pit, but damn that felt good to get it out!)