You don’t have to act interested in my child. It’s cool. I’m not that interested in yours.
There are some children I quite like. Usually any child I’m related to. I think it must be some throw-back caveman instinct where I’d be expected to take over for my sister if she got herself mauled by a saber-toothed tiger. Likewise, I’m quite fond of the babies of my mothers group. I guess some part of me recognizes they are my “village” and therefore their children are also my responsibility.
All other children? Meh. I just don’t have it in me to pretend I find them cute or fascinating.
At least, not in the flesh. I love baby photos. I’m happy for my entire facebook/ insta feed to be crammed with gorgeous babies. Send them all my way. I love looking at kids. I just don’t have overly warm feelings to those who walk and talk (scream). I don’t dislike them. I just don’t get all “oooooohhhmygaaaawwwwd you’re SOOOOO adorable!” when a small person is in my presence.
So don’t feel obliged to coo over my baby in the supermarket. Honestly, I won’t take it personally. I mean, he’s adorable, but it gets awkward when you’re fussing over him and he’s glaring at you like you’re sporting a nasty growth on your face. He’s not a big fan of strangers and he’s possibly cursed with the Bitch Face Syndrome that runs in my family. He’s a seriously beautiful child who tends to look like he smells something bad when we’re in public. Sorry.
So when I’m pushing my trolley through the check-out and you gush over his sparkling blue eyes and he continues to shoot filthies your way, I’m forced to make up excuses. “Oh, he’s overdue for a nap” or “He’s just woken up, poor little poppet” (cue indulgent smile)… anything that explains why my child won’t automatically smile and perform for anyone throwing compliments our way.
It’s just TOO.MUCH.PRESSURE.
So feel free to ignore us. And forgive me if I ignore yours.