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.
