While in line at Starbucks* I was looking at an adorable little girl in a rad lime green stroller. Apparently my admiration for her smiley cuteness and awesome red hair (oh, how I wish my hair had retained that perfect redness into adulthood!) did not go unnoticed by the guy behind me.
Scruffy Older Dude: *Gestures toward little girl* “So, where’s yours?”
Me: “Um, what? Oh! Yeah, no… I, uh…I don’t have one of those.” (Really? “One of those?” Like the child is an iPod?)
Scruffy: “Why not?”
Me: *Laughing nervously* “Oh, you know… Um, I don’t know. Haven’t, uh, gotten around to it.” (Because having a kid is much like getting the oil changed in my car: it’s time, just haven’t “gotten to it” yet.)
Scruffy: “Oh, that’s OK. Wait until you’re older. You’ll be more patient and treat them better.”
Me: *Nods head vigorously* “Yeah. Totally.” (Yes, make sure you take advice from this guy. He seems really on the ball.)
Mercifully, it was at this point that I was able to place my order and fade into the crowd of people waiting for drinks. I started to wonder when my parenthood status became an acceptable topic of conversation with a stranger. The weather is unseasonably warm – can’t we just talk about that? Or the fact that pumpkin lattes are delicious? Anything?
I never thought I’d welcome someone trying to talk to me about accepting Jesus Christ as my personal savior.
*Yes, I went to Starbucks. Not a lot of walking distance options in Pacifica. Back off.