conuly

It's actually a Jewish holiday, so Jenn was home, but as she was cleaning my house (again), I had the baby.

And here I am, on the bus, with a bag of clothes (very much love the superman outfits, by the way, Ana'll be over the moon with those. Thanks,

mayna!) and the baby, sitting next to a very talkative woman.

Now, the "OH! THAT BABY IS SO BEAUTIFUL!" conversation has already gotten to be very old, but at seven months, they can't really chatter inanely about how brilliant, polite, or sweet she is, so I just smile and nod.

Yes, yes, she has beautiful eyes.
Yes, yes, she has beautiful eyebrows.
Yes, yes, she'll never have to pluck or wax or... wait, what?

WHAT?

Why the hell are you telling my niece about all the horrible things women do in the name of arbitrary standards of conformity and beauty?

She is SEVEN MONTHS OLD.

You need to back off. Now.

I was deeply disturbed by this conversational turn, and quite happy to leave the bus, even as it meant I had to struggle with getting the bag of clothes back on the dolly after they fell off.

Seriously, what just happened there?

Oh, and the baby is starting to figure out "no" now. I tell her no as she's going near the fan, and before I can move her (or the fan), she's turned around, cried a bit (aww...), and wandered off to a new toy. I felt bad about the crying, but I can't very well let her slice her fingers off on a plastic fan, can I? I didn't think so.