Fresh

You're looking at a baby about to breathe fresh air. Oh dear.

The past few days we've had a break in the weather. It's been around 60 degrees with a nice pleasant wind to stir up the stagnant winter air. I opened the windows, strapped the kid in the Bjorn and headed out into town.

At a crosswalk, an older woman addressed me. Not with, "Hello", "Good morning", "Nice baby" or "Ugly shirt" even. No, instead she hissed, "Your baby is going to get sick from the wind in its face." Oh.

This has happened more than once. Apparently babies shouldn't leave the house before the age of one. Apparently they shouldn't feel sunshine on their face. And they most certainly should not inhale fresh, warm air traveling at any speed other than zero. The sling I carry her in when not using the Bjorn will certainly hurt her back and if not wearing pink she MUST be a boy. MUST.

What I wanted to say in return to the windy lady was not nice. I wanted to tell her thank goodness she was out walking at the same time we were. Otherwise how would I've ever known how to mother my own child? Or, how about, well, maybe if you stick your face in her face a bit more and breathe a little more on her she'll develop immunities to all the germs flapping about in the wind.

I didn't say those things. I did make a mental note to self, that when I'm older and Storey is grown, I'm to walk up to strangers with children and comment only on the ugliness of their shirt ~ nothing more.