Breaking News: Baby Bends to Peer Pressure From the AIBC.

So.  Noah and I went back to Michael’s last week.

First of all, let me say that I’m really becoming endeared to Michael’s Lady, Queen of The Awkwardly Intense Busybody Club herself.

In fact, her preposterous comments are really actually making me want to go to Michael’s MORE often, just to see what she’ll scold me about next.  Maybe she’s some sort of twisted marketing experiment and I’m totally falling for it, but I’m beginning to enjoy her bizarrely offensive ways enough to make me want to purchase extraneous crafting paraphernalia for the opportunity to exchange unpleasantries with her.

Also, I’ve gotten to hear some awesome stories from other lucky people who have had the unique pleasure of encountering her.  One friend shared,

“I believe she had something to say about my girls carrying their loveys….and I made a comment about how “they love them to death”.  She told me I should say ‘love them to pieces – to death isn’t nice.’”

…because loving someone or something to rips and shreds is so much nicer than just loving them to death.

Anyway.  Noah and I went in the other night.  We walked up to pay for our purchases, and there was Michael’s Lady, in all of her glory.

Except that she was FURIOUS.

She was unloading on a co-worker, complaining about how their boss was treating them and she was quite aggrieved about the fact that he was going to get a bonus because of it.

In fact, I’m pretty sure that she repeated, in elevating decibels, the sentence,

“And he’s going to get a BONUS because of it!!!  AND HE’S GOING TO GET A BONUS BECAUSE OF IT!!!”

at least ten times.

She looked up and saw me waiting patiently.  She threw in one more “AND HE’S GOING TO GET A BONUS BECAUSE OF IT!!!!” to the co-worker before releasing a gigantic cleansing sigh and announcing regally, “OKAY.  I can take you on this register!”

I loaded my items onto the counter, greatly anticipating her examining my parenting and unearthing hidden flaws.

I didn’t have to wait long.

“Oh, why does that baby have a paci in his mouth???  He can’t talk to me when he has a paci in his mouth!!!”

“He’s sleepy.”

“Well, he doesn’t need a pacifier.”

She handed me the customer survey that printed out with my receipt.  “Be sure and take this survey about your shopping experience – there’s a sweepstakes with it, and I would really love for one of my customers to win!!”

I chuckled to myself about what all I could write about my shopping experiences.

“Oh, and take that paci out of his mouth!!”

Just to play along, (and wanting to see where it would lead,) I obeyed.

I pulled his plug and Noah immediately smiled at her with a big, open-mouthed, adorably charming grin.

She literally recoiled, horrified.

“Oh, GRACIOUS!!! That baby doesn’t have any teeth!!! How old is he???”

“Um, almost nine months.”

“And he doesn’t have any teeth yet?!?!”


I signed my receipt and began walking toward the doors, thinking of all the people I knew whose babies didn’t teethe until they were over a year old, and fantasizing about how disgusted she would be at their offspring.

Apparently, I walked away too quickly for her.  So naturally, she followed me.  She came out from behind her register and began chasing me out the door.

“Do you have any other people in your family that were late teethers???”

“Well, my daughter didn’t get teeth until she was nine months old.”

“Oh.  Well that makes sense.  I hear that sort of behavior runs in families…”

And then the sliding doors mercifully closed behind me and my disturbingly toothless baby.

…who apparently got a complex from the encounter.

Because, guess who woke up yesterday morning, the morning of his nine month birthday, with a spontaneous growth of not one, but TWO teeth?!

(Well, they’re not big enough to see in blog-sized photos just yet, but I promise – they’re there.)

Obviously, Michael’s Lady isn’t just making an impact on me.

And, since I know Michael’s Lady has been lying awake in bed nightly completely and absolutely emotionally wrecked at the thought of my baby NEVER GROWING ANY TEETH AND HAVING TO GUM HIS FOOD FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE, I’m thinking I should take him back in and show her – you know, just to ease her mind.

…and to hear her chastise me for making my poor baby leave the house when he was teething, cruel and heartless mother that I am.