I commented several times when Olivia was teeny(er) that having a new baby was similar, I imagined, to living with a foreign exchange student. There's the frustrating language barrier thing, and babies do seem like they have their own culture that parents just don't get, kinda like how the Canadians have crushes on Maple leafs.
Now that she's a little bit older, she seems to have evolved from foreigner to celebrity. I'm not gonna lie, our baby is damn cute. She smiles this crooked, gummy little grin. She's got those big, smiling, blue eyes. She has a head that is amazingly round, and, oh, those tiny hands and feet. I acknowledge my bias.
Wherever we go, she works the crowd. Reels 'em in like helpless fish. They lean over her car seat smiling and cooing, and of course, she turns up the charm and smiles back. Maybe she flails her arms and legs in a gesture of approval.
Today, Oli and I went to Trader Joe's to do our grocery shopping, and no kidding, we were stopped four separate times before we left the produce section. A few isles in, we parked near a wall of nuts to check the list. I looked up to see an older woman with the customary short, thin and curly "mature lady hair," died reddish black, coming our way. Fan Club member number 5, of course.
She peered into Olivia's carrier and touched her half-socked foot like she was about to praise Olivia's undeniable adorableness. To my horror, however, she launched into an account of how a baby's car seat fell off the shopping cart at Costco that very morning and the baby fell on its head. "They called the paramedics," she said. "It was okay, but when they pulled it out it was, you know..." and then she hung her head back and to the side with her eyes half closed and her tongue out. (I'm pretty sure about the tongue, anyway.)
I was absolutely aghast. I didn't even try to wipe the look of horror off my face in order to be polite. She quickly began chatting away about how all babies love her, and--no kidding--saying "Watch this! Watch this!" as she danced in front of my cart.
No, Olivia! No! I screamed with my mind. Don't smile for her! We have to flee!
That's my girl--Olivia looked only at me, totally dissing the loony bat who thinks stories about smooshed babies are a welcome how-dee-doo on shopping day.
We were able to go on our way, but I was completely freaked out and hyper-protective of her until we were home. For the rest of the day I was wondering two things: 1) can I safely go grocery shopping alone? (I am not afraid of theatrical grandmas, but cart disasters), and 2) Was she at Costco for the disaster? And if so, why was she later at Trader Joe's? Is she the Jessica Lansbury of grocery stores?
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