6/19/12

Hey! Don't touch the baby!



That little stop sign hangs from Oliver’s baby carrier.  It is nicely displayed near the middle of the carrying handle for everyone to see. So why in the hell are people still touching him?!  What’s worse, it appears that the older he gets, the bolder crazy strangers get.

A good friend of mine gave me the stop sign shortly after Ollie was born.  I love it, I was sure that the sign would allow me to be passive aggressive about friends and family touching my newborn.  I had no idea that I would also need it to fight off complete strangers too. 

When he was first born and we would take him out, most people would keep their distance.  Friends and family would see the sign, say how cool they thought it was and still reach in for squeeze.  Strangers were, for the most part, good about keeping their distance.  Except it did seem like the older empty nesters and grandmothers felt they were exempt from the stop sign. 

Now that Ollie is 4 ½ months, big and squishy and will smile and coo at ANYTHING, I need a stick to fight the crazies off. Last week a checkout lady at a local store we frequent got so carried away she kissed his feet!  Seriously, CRAZY LADY MOUTH OFF THE FEET!

Then today while grocery shopping a super stranger, mid 50’s woman, pushes the hubs out of the way and says, “Let me have a look at that cute little baby!”  Then the psycho squeezes his leg and squeals.  Sure enough, Oliver does too!  He’s scared to death of the old bat. I had to unbuckle him and get him out of the carrier to calm him down.  Then she proceeded to follow us around apologizing.  Thankfully she finally let up at isle 10, because at isle 11 I was going to have to scream at her.

I live in the south.  So I have a fairly high thresh hold for southern hospitality and being neighborly. But, lately I have been pushed to my limit. Then again, no one should have to fight off feet kissers and leg squeezers, especially when they are complete strangers!

I should have known when I was pregnant and people treated me like a petting zoo, that there was no such thing as “personal space,” especially in the south.  But seriously, who would have thought that an innocent little baby would become a public petting zoo too?

I’m at a loss.  The stop sign doesn’t work, and faith in the whole personal space boundary is pointless. I’m going to have to be even crazier than the crazies if I want to venture out with my son, and not have him slobbered on by complete strangers.  Or at the very least carry around a stick to hit their grimy paws with.  I guess it’s time say screw southern hospitality and break out the, "don't mess with my little man" attitude.



Two confused parents=One amused baby Hopelessly we are trying raise a baby who is clearly smarter than both of us. April is an award-winning writer and blogger. Her work has been published in over ten countries and four languages. From books to newspapers, to print/online magazines and everything in between, you can find her work. For more on April, Visit AprilMcCormick.com

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