Chocolate Baby Einstein

I really want one of those massive blowup snowglobes. You know the ones, little bits of fake snow, probably Styrofoam, blow around an inflatable bubble, while snowmen sit on a circling carousel?

There's about five of them in front of Canadian Tire on Gardiners Road.

The BF says we can wait until after Christmas to get one on sale for next year.

I think if he really loved me, and appreciated the fact that he does not have to breastfeed 12 freakin' hours a day, he'd buy me one.

Anyway.

That was an aside.

(If you loved me. You'd buy me one.)

But back to business.

The other day, while we were at Canadian Tire looking at outside lights, Henkel knives that are half price this week, and baby running strollers, we met perhaps the nicest, friendliest, most inquisitive sales girl.

I had three Advent calendars in the cart.

One each for the teenagers and one for Little Man.

"Ohmigod? Is that your baby? He's sooooooooo cuuutttee!!!!!!" she squealed.

"Ohmigod! How old is he? He's so sweeeeeetttt!!!!"

"Ohmigod! What's his name?"

"Ohmigod! Did you buy him an Advent calendar? That's so nnniiiiiccee!"

I smiled at the girl.

I'm used to strangers stopping me at No Frills, Canadian Tire, Starbucks, the voting station today, to tell me how scrumptious my babe is but this girl may win the prize for most interested.

"Ohmigod! He's soooo cuutteee!!!!!" she repeated again, as she followed us around through housewares.

"But wait a minute. Is he old enough to have chocolate?"

"The kid is two and a half months old, lady," I thought to myself.

Is he allowed to have Advent calendar chocolate?

Ah, no.

I smiled to myself as I left the store.

I probably would have wondered the same thing when I was 17.

OK, OK, I would have wondered the same thing last year.

But that doesn't make me a bad mother who doesn't deserve a snowglobe.