We're in Metrotown the other day. Saturday. There was seriously no good reason to be there. The stores there are lame. It's so busy that you can't take more than a single step forward in any one direction.I'm pushing Baby T in the new stroller that we have, weaving around and bumping into people. They all give me a look like I'm really in the way. I'm not feeling particularily welcome at this point.
We head over to Superstore. It's even busier there, especially by the checkouts. No one will let me past, so I'm an aisle behind the rest of the family. That's ok, no big deal, I try to be patient.
That's when the little one starts to cry. I mean seriously cry, crying like it is the end of the world. For a seven-week old baby, he does a really great job. It feels like it's echoing through the entire mall. I start to feel embarrassed and then I realize that it's acting like a siren.
People are moving out of my way, and smiling at me. They're pulling over and letting me past, giving me this little sympathetic nod and smile - "look at that great dad there pushing his kid in the stroller". Interesting.
Read this on the "Sweet Juniper" blog:
There is a fundamental unfairness to the way men are treated with their children in public compared to women. A man carrying a screaming infant while dragging a toddler ... well he's "such a good dad."Hilarious.
Mothers, I've learned from floor polish commercials, have to give 100 percent. Fatherhood is not unlike the Special Olympics. Sometimes you get a medal just for showing up.
