So I had one of those excruciatingly embarrassing parental moments happen to me today. To set the scene, Stella’s camp was scheduled to spend the morning at the local zoo followed by a trip to a splash pad at an adjacent park immediately after. In short, there was no way practically for her to do one without the other, and she can’t do a splash pad. Ergo, my daughter is spending a day with me here at home while I peruse scintillating groundwater reports.
Will called shortly after leaving to report that he had forgotten his Bluetooth headphones and could I pleasepleaseplease bring them up to his office since it was so close. Sure, whatever. So Stella and I hopped in the car on our mission of mercy.
We delivered our payload and were headed back to the house. This building has an elevator. This means that even though it’s only 2 stories, there’s no way in hell your kid is going to let you out of there without at least one elevator ride. Can I get a “wheeeeeee,” anyone?
Right as we were hopping on the elevator to go back down, 2 older ladies joined us. One obviously worked there, and recognized Stella as Will’s little girl. I have no clue who the other one was. Both were a captive audience, however, as the world’s slowest elevator descended the required 12 feet. Stella gave them both the blow-by-blow of breaking her arm and her cast and how if she gets it wet moss or mushrooms might grow in it. Abruptly she stopped her monologue, looked at the older and slightly portlier woman and asked,”Is that a baby in your belly?”
Dammit. Just dammit.
The lady was a good sport and replied that she had had her babies long ago. I mumbled an apology and wished for death.
I know this shit happens. But dammit. Would it be bad form to carry around a couple of paper bags in my purse to jam over our faces next time this happens?