Last week, as we sat in the doctor's surgery (for northerners, read "office". We weren't camped out in a theatre watching him work), I was feeding our son. I did not do this for kicks or because I am an exhibitionist, merely because his feeding schedule didn't line up well with the appointment time.
Because I am not a nudist, I had myself covered with a blanket.
A little old lady entered the surgery and smiled at us. You could see her eyes light up as she saw the baby shape at my front. She crept over to us and peeked at him, from the legs up. "Oh," said she in surprise, "he's feeding!". Indeed. I do not just cover his head for fun with a blanket. Modesty only works when people don't look that hard.
A different day in the same surgery a little old lady smiled at me as I rocked and tried to soothe my dear son, but he would have none of that. He wanted the foods and he wanted them now. Her smile faded away and turned to a slight scowl as I nursed my little boy.
As I went to go routine blood work later in the afternoon (of the first lady who, chronologically is the second lady, but let's not get confused), I walked past another little old lady who fussed and cooed over the little boy and commended me on his name. After all, it's her boy's middle name, so a very good choice. I replied that I quite liked the name myself.
Just a short time after that as I sat waiting, another little old lady passed me by. "Isn't this the perfect stage?" she asked. "Don't you just wish he'd stay like this forever?"
"I don't know," I replied. "Isn't it fun to watch them grow and learn to do different things? All stages are wonderful."
"How many other children do you have?" she queried.
"Ah," she nodded knowingly deciding she had won the point. "Isn't this the perfect stage? Don't you just wish he'd stay like this forever?"
I don't know about that. I love watching our boy grow, practically in front of our eyes. Everyday is an adventure and wonderful albeit difficult in their own was.
But then, who am I to say? I'm not a little old lady.