When that baby is not yours?
Today at lunch, Declan and I were at a diner. It was busy. Bustling. It’s the last week for Christmas shopping, right? We were packed in like sardines with everyone else who was trying to get done a million things today.
The family next to us could only be described as snooty. Well, if we want to get technical, the mom definitely had a stick up her ass, and the dad was just an asshole. The two teen boys seemed typical – and actually a little embarrassed by their parents.
Because those parents were mad – really really really mad – about a baby crying a short distance from us.
To the point where they asked the server – I shit you not – to have the baby and her family moved away.
Oh yeah – that baby was screaming her head off. Like breaking glass decibels. But she was a baby. It was chaotic in there. I was on edge myself. But I REALLY got on edge when that poor waiter had to go over, and politely ask them, “Can I help you with anything? Would another area of the restaurant work better for you?”
Kudos for him for skirting the issue.
Declan watched the whole thing with a look of fascination.
I finally made him move to my side of the table so we could whisper about it like two teenage girls.
He said the baby was really annoying him too. But he knew she would calm down eventually. And why be rude to everyone when it was super loud in the restaurant to begin with?
“She must not remember what it was like to have a baby.”
photo by Upsilon Andromedae