Friday, May 12, 2006
She has your hair
Today Martin, Chloe and I were running an errand, and it took a bit longer than expected. Martin had to get downtown for his guitar lesson. So, I told him to go with the car, and that Chloe and I would take the MAX home. So, we go to the MAX station, and wait for the train. She is dressed in blue, so everyone is asking "How old is your son." Never mind that she has bows on her pants and shirt. But, it doesn't bother me...she is dressed in blue, and doesn't have much hair. I would probably make the same assumption.
Anyway, the train arrives. It's around 5:30p, so it's packed. I hold her close and say excuse me, excuse me, about 12 times just to try and step up the two stairs to the main level. The doors finally shut. I put my hand on the pole, and Chloe looked up at me, then the pole, and then did the same thing (cute, but ewww...gotta remember to wipe her hands well upon exiting the train).
Everyone in squeezed in around us, and I feel a tap on me. I turn around, and it's a nice lady, "You want my seat?" I looked back, and upon seeing the very drunk and dirty man sitting next to her say, "Oh no, thank you that's very kind, but we're OK standing." So the drunk guy slurs, very loudly, "How OLD isssss ur BA-by?" I can't just ignore people (refer to previous freak magnet post), so I say, "10 months."
"AWWWWWWWWW," he says.
I turn back around, and a few seconds go by in silence.
Then, I hear, really loud, very slurred speech: "She HAS ur haaair - that's cute."
Well, score one point for the drunk guy for figuring out she is a she. I say thanks. But hair? That's a new one. People usually say her eyes look like mine. We continue on in silence as I look at the top of her head. That's when it hits me -- HAIR? The kid doesn't have any hair. OK, I take the back. She has a mohawk of fine hair that falls into a natural "comb over". But the sides of her head have very short peach fuzz, and there is a bald spot in the back from where she rubbed off all her hair as a newborn sleeping on her back. I made a note to myself to ask Martin if there is something I should know about my new haircut.
So, as I am leaving, he yells out, "Goooood luck wid dat BAby."
Anyway, the train arrives. It's around 5:30p, so it's packed. I hold her close and say excuse me, excuse me, about 12 times just to try and step up the two stairs to the main level. The doors finally shut. I put my hand on the pole, and Chloe looked up at me, then the pole, and then did the same thing (cute, but ewww...gotta remember to wipe her hands well upon exiting the train).
Everyone in squeezed in around us, and I feel a tap on me. I turn around, and it's a nice lady, "You want my seat?" I looked back, and upon seeing the very drunk and dirty man sitting next to her say, "Oh no, thank you that's very kind, but we're OK standing." So the drunk guy slurs, very loudly, "How OLD isssss ur BA-by?" I can't just ignore people (refer to previous freak magnet post), so I say, "10 months."
"AWWWWWWWWW," he says.
I turn back around, and a few seconds go by in silence.
Then, I hear, really loud, very slurred speech: "She HAS ur haaair - that's cute."
Well, score one point for the drunk guy for figuring out she is a she. I say thanks. But hair? That's a new one. People usually say her eyes look like mine. We continue on in silence as I look at the top of her head. That's when it hits me -- HAIR? The kid doesn't have any hair. OK, I take the back. She has a mohawk of fine hair that falls into a natural "comb over". But the sides of her head have very short peach fuzz, and there is a bald spot in the back from where she rubbed off all her hair as a newborn sleeping on her back. I made a note to myself to ask Martin if there is something I should know about my new haircut.
So, as I am leaving, he yells out, "Goooood luck wid dat BAby."
