I Am Fine (Apparently)

Well, kids, it's time for my annual pick-up story. That's right. The story where some creepy guy attempts to pick up on me and then we all laugh. This one won't disappoint.

On Saturday morning I made a trip to the Dominick's on Howard with little boy Gavs to pick up cleaning supplies and various items of a produce nature. It was in said produce aisle that I noticed a tall black man dressed nattily in a fedora, gold chain, and long overcoat checking out the bib lettuce...and me.

This brother lumbered over to me and said, "How old your baby?"

"Pardon me?"

"How old your baby?"

"He's eight months old."

"What his name?"

"His name is Gavin."

"You baby EIGHT MONTHS OLD?!"

"Yes," I replied. "My baby is eight months old."

"You baby is EIGHT MONTHS OLD?"

"Yes."

"GIRL!!! YOU LOOK GOOD! Some of those ladies that have babies are all fat after eight months, but, girl, YOU LOOK FINE!"

"Yes, well. Thank you."

"Um, hummm."

Apparently I am fine.