Oh mother of that sweet baby in the grocery store today . . . . Why would you have put a tiny child in your grocery store basket and leave the basket in the aisle with the child in it while you go check out the deli line or worse, the restroom line? How could you do that? WHY would you do that?
Today at Marsh I saw a basket with a little red-headed boy in it. The baby looked so much like my son looked at that age: perky, smiley, friendly, and WIGGILY. This baby was so cute and wiggily, and NOBODY was anywhere near him, to make sure he didn’t wiggle right out of the basket and onto the floor. NOBODY was anywhere near him, to make sure he didn’t sample something out of the cart. NOBODY was anywhere near him to make sure a stranger didn’t pick him up and walk right out of the store with him. The little boy was friendly and sleepy and wiggily and loving, and anybody on earth could have picked him up and cuddled him and this baby would have laid his precious little head on the stranger’s shoulder and the two of them could have disappeared into the horizon never to be seen or heard from again. . . . .
Oh busy shopping parent: I hope you don’t learn this lesson the hard way.
And may I say just one thing more: TAKE CARE OF YOUR BABY, YOU INSENSITIVE UNDESERVING CLOD! HOW DARE YOU JUST LEAVE THAT PRECIOUS CHILD ALONE IN A GROCERY CART IN THE AISLE OF A BIG GROCERY STORE WHERE ANYTHING MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED AND ANYBODY COULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING TO HIM. . . . a little baby who couldn’t even talk yet, to call for help or say ‘no’ , who could barely sit up, who wouldn’t have even cried because he would have welcomed almost anybody’s attention, a tiny little boy who was friendly and loving and sleepy and who would therefore have gone into the arms of ANYBODY. . . .
I don’t care how badly you needed to pee. Take the baby to the bathroom with you, or leave the baby with a sitter. Just don’t LEAVE THAT BEAUTIFUL CHILD ALONE IN A CART IN THE AISLE OF A HUGE GROCERY STORE.
I was just one of three irate mothers who had come upon the baby in the cart, and were standing guard around it.
You, you rotten excuse of a mother, came bouncing out of the restroom by way of the deli, with a bag of sliced ham and an unconcerned grin, and had the nerve to be surprised by the militant mothers who confronted you about your baby.
“He was fine, I was just gone for a minute, jeez, lighten up ladies.” She was still exhaling faint cigarette smoke as she talked. “Butt out, bitches. I was gone a minute. That’s all.”
It doesn’t even take a SECOND, you consummate ass. She was gone for at least ten minutes.
We watched you push your cart and your baby through the checkout and out of our lives, but one of the militant mothers knew you for a regular customer, and if you ever do this again while any of us are in the store, we will call the police. I wish we’d done it today, in fact.
That is not a threat. It’s a promise.
And I hope you rot in jail.
Some people don’t deserve to have children.