At the grocery

The Lad and I went grocery shopping today. We discovered 10 a.m. Friday is prime shopping time for every old person within a 10-mile radius. I kept The Lad covered up in his carrier for several reasons:

1. He was sleeping and I wanted him to stay that way.

2. It's a little chilly and windy today.

3. I didn't want all those old people touching him or breathing two inches from his face.

Some old people just can't resist a baby. The last time we went to the grocery store, an old woman who had been eating a free deli sample five seconds before touched The Lad's face as she exclaimed over his eyelashes. I appreciated the compliment, but not the grease on my baby's face. So today, the old people peering curiously at the carrier -- some of the shorter women even craning their necks or standing on tiptoe -- were all disappointed to see nothing but a very cute blanket made by my grandma.

I ran into one lady several times. She blocked the cereal aisle to ask a worker where the beans were, and then I found her in the vegetable aisle about five feet away from the beans and still unable to locate them.

"You still looking for the beans? Here they are," I said.

"I want white beans."

"Oh, well, there are these cannellini."

"Oh," she said, "but that's Goya. I just don't know about that."

Personally, I prefer Goya, but whatever. I went to show her the store brand.

"Oh don't worry about it. You have the baby -- It is a baby, isn't it? I keep looking. The baby isn't dead, is he?"

"..."

That's me not knowing what to say to the suggestion that I'd cart around a dead baby. Or, I don't know, maybe a cat. I recovered and handed her a can of great northern beans.

"He's sleeping. Here are your beans," I said. "Have a good day."