On the bus home earlier in the week, my mind, as it often does, ruminated a trying day (where I had tried my best and everyone else tried their best to be trying). In this reflective state (cloud cuckoo land), I typically don’t notice my fellow commuters except in a vague peripheral kinda way.
Cue someone poking me in the peripheral to gain my attention.
Mother: The baby is trying to get your attention.
Me: Uh, what?
Mother: My baby is trying to get your attention.
Me: Oh, do I owe it money?
Me: I’m joking, but…what?
Mother: My baby wants to play with you.
Mother: He likes to play and talk with passengers.
Me: He talks at that age? Wow!, gifted. Er, hello, sweetie. What’s your name?
Mother: Tickle his hand; he likes that.
Me: Oh, here’s my stop. Bye now. Have a lovely evening. Bye…baby.
Bus Driver: You’re not due a few stops yet, Mel. (The drivers know me.)
Me: I’m running home to get some of this weight off. Please don’t. Just let me off.
Now, I’m familiar with mothers’ complaints about strangers accosting their children with unsolicited public displays of affection, but mothers and their babies accosting strangers as entertainment?
I deliberately didn’t knee jerk this post, cos’ I did really want to think about it fairly and objectively. After all, no real harm had been done and quite cute in some strange, bizarre, really? way.
However, on reflection…I’m going to pass.
Honestly, baby, it’s not you, it’s me. Now, me is really nice, but you should ask mummy to stop accosting complete strangers to play with you – because some strangers can be really strange.
And loosely translated, baby, that means Ugahgragrog.
MISs Make It Stop!