I spent a few hours today at the mechanics. Our Toyota 4Runner needs: a water pump, timing belt, radiator, some hoses and such. To the tune of $1540. That hurts...a lot. Also, I had to wait until Alex got home from work to be able to leave the mechanic. I did have the stroller with me, but I had to take the base of the car seat out of the 4Runner and could not walk home it. So, I had to wait there for Alex. Not the best way to spend an afternoon.
But, I need to relay the conversation that I had in the waiting area. Evangeline and I were playing and she was looking all around with big bright eyes. Now, she was wearing a pink romper that said 'mommy's little girl' and I kept repeating things like 'who is mommy good little girl' and 'what is my baby girl looking at'. I am not one of those moms that gets upset if a stranger calls Evangeline a boy, but c'mon now.
I fully support people's right to cross-dress, but I would never push that my baby.
Getting back to it, we were just minding our own business when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that there was a man looking at us. He was an employee and seemed harmless, his lips curled into that smile that I had never seen before having Evangeline. It was the smile of someone that had experienced sleepless nights and diaper changes and teething. It was the smile of a parent.
He walked over to us and said...something. I couldn't understand him, he had a really strong accent, possibly Jamaican. I said "Sorry?" He repeated himself, okay definitely sounded like a West Indies accent, and he mentioned the baby and the word 'old', so I just decided that he had asked how old the baby was.
"5 and a half months" I replied.
"How can she be 5 and a half months?" he asked.
"Um, she is 5 months and 13 days old, so it is easier to say 5 and a half months." I answered.
"You are wrong, she is not 5 and a half months."
Um, what??
He went on to explain that babies' age should be counted from the moment of conception, so she should be 14.5 months. I thought this was strange, but I smiled and nodded.
We sat in silence for a few minutes and he spoke again.
Him: "Do you have him a bottle?"
Me: "Yes, I have a bottle for her."
Him: "Is it the goat milk?"
Me: "Nope, it is her specialty formula."
Him: " Why is it not goat milk?"
Now, I have known a lot of people with babies, and not a one has given their infant goat milk. It is either breastmilk or formula for the first year. Really, I probably only know a handful of adults that have drank goat milk.
I explained to him that she has a crappy stomach and needs a special formula and can't handle milk proteins. He nodded and went silent again. Shortly after this, a car pulled up to get gas, so the man walked out (it is a full service station).
He walks back in.
Him: "So he has a bad stomach?"
Me: "Yes, she does?"
Him: "The baby is a girl?"
Me: "Yes, she is. her name is Evangeline."
Him: "Angelina? That is pretty."
Me: "Evangeline."
Him: "Evang...that is not a name."
Me: "Well it is her name."
Him "Oh."
He looks at me with squinted eyes.
Him: "I do not like that name, Ruby is a pretty name."
I nodded and did not hide my annoyance. I went back to playing with my daughter and the time flew by.
I saw him one more time before I left. He came back over and said "Good moms give their babies goat milk and name them pretty names. But your baby is fat and healthy, so you must be doing something right."
Gee, um, thanks?
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