My Baby the Ageist
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwI_SBRERs31csaJPJQKSxFSIqR4cU0bxOipLCyTC_vnWYPitZ-qxojbsWhS9MWO0Qxocm18FMllibAyENRBoqnToUPNUzku08Mu84Ia5k9HKqmWzVjC5E0DFzuCbA1zYTPsu/s200/Crazy_Cat_Lady.jpg)
As the mother, it is then my job to try and explain to this sweet, wrinkled old lady why she scares the living daylights out of my child. Of course, the reasons are many but as a politically correct mother, I give an apologetic smile and lie. "She's really tired," or "she's teething." The truth would be more along the lines of, "maybe if you didn't talk like a crazy cat lady," or "do you blame her? You're terrifying looking!"
Yesterday at church an old abuelita came over to where we were sitting and began cackling out silly Spanish poems and poking her fingers in Cher's face. Screams ensued. "Eh?" creaked the old woman. "Maybe she never heard someone talk like me?" She tried again to charm Cher with a silly Spanish song but Cher went purple with rage and clawed at my shoulder, trying to escape.
Of all the people for my baby to be afraid of, why does it have to be the old ladies? She has no problem with the homeless guy at the park who is covered in bird poop and wants to tickle her toes. But old ladies? They're the stuff of nightmares.
Comments
Just start screaming even louder and see what happens.