Yesterday we’re in a restaurant in the suburbs, refueling after a wild and crazy trip to Target.
NSG is holding Roo and being very silly, and he’s cracking up. They’re very sweet together, and they’re drawing admiring looks from baby-stalkers here and there in the restaurant. The woman sitting behind NSG looks at me and says “father and son?”
NSG freezes with the “not-this-again” look and I say “mother and son.” The woman, thinking I’ve misunderstood, says “no, him – is he the baby’s father?” And again I say, “no, she’s his mother.” So the woman gets up and comes around to see NSG’s face (I’ll grant that NSG has very short hair), as if she doesn’t believe me, and, embarassed, tries to cover her tracks by saying “my, don’t you two look alike!” as she gazes at my pale pale wife and mocha-colored baby. When NSG informs her he was adopted, the woman shrieks “TWO curve balls!” and immediately finds an excuse to be in another part of the restaurant.
Her tablemate tried to smooth things over by telling us over and over how cute Roo is, and then asking where we got such a cute baby. She’s floored when we tell her where he was born – because apparently such cute babies don’t come from the U.S.?
NSG’s only comment: “Honey, let’s get the HELL out of the suburbs.”