1) If you have to ask if my baby is a boy or girl, DON’T!!! I mean, really people.
2) Don’t comment on how big/small he is. Other peoples’ babies really don’t matter to me.
3) Yes, I’m breast-feeding. Yes, I’m drinking coffee. But, not at the same friggin’ time. Don’t judge. Karma is a bitch.
Now, of course I’m talking about complete strangers. And, I’ve had the pleasure (not!) of being exposed to some knobs who should not be allowed to breed. Whatever happened to survival of the fittest? Natural selection? I guess Darwinism doesn’t apply to mall rats. Oh wait…Anyway, here are a couple of stellar examples of actual things some chromosomal-deficient wackos have said to me:
1) I just ran across the store to see your baby. Ok, I can go now. (Who are you?)
2) Omigod! Your son is sooo tiny. (Really? You try carrying him for two hours straight.)
3) Is that your baby? You look too young to be a mother. (ARGH!!!!! Die, right now.)
Despite these awkward situations, I do enjoy going out with Caden. If I didn’t I’d forget how to interact with other adults. Unless you want me to sing nursery rhymes to you. Of course, you’d have to pay…