Oh You Are A Mucky Kid, Dirty As A Dustbin Lid

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September 6, 2012 by kitcac

When we got Blue Dog, you’d get all sorts of randoms talking to you in the park about how their neighbour’s cousin’s dog is a different breed to Blue.

Er, I don’t know you, I don’t know your neighbour, I don’t know their cousin or their cousin’s dog that is a different breed.  What’s your point, love?

Get pregnant or have a kid and it gets ten times worse.

I went to an antenatal appointment once and the receptionist who I dealt with pointed to a colleague behind the desk and said “Ooooh, she’s pregnant too!”

And your point would be what…?  I just shrugged my shoulders and said “Good for her”.

What did this receptionist expect me to do?  Go for a coffee with a stranger so that we could compare wombs?

My mum has had a similar experience of an irrelevant connection being made by a stranger.  She had to tell someone her nationality, which is Irish.  This person pointed to her colleague and said “Ooooh, she’s Ukrainian!”  What on earth does that have to do with being Irish?!  They are totally unrelated!

Anyway, back to strangers sticking their oars in with your kids.

I was in B&M Bargains the other day, cos that’s how I roll.  I got accosted by an oldish chap who liked the look of my baby.  JWop is nowhere near as nowty as his mother and smiled at this guy.  DANG!

Oldish chap then took this smile as the signal to PUT HIS FINGER IN MY BABY’S HAND!  Yikes!  He then pretended to wrangle his finger away from JWop saying “he’s got me, he’s got me, I can’t get loose”.

Ha ha, very funny Mr Stranger who happens to be touching my baby.

Then this bloke started telling me to let my baby get dirty.  Not sure where he got the idea that I have OCD, particularly as its 95% likely that I had baby-vom on every item of clothing I was wearing as well as in my hair.  I probably hadn’t brushed my teeth.  I definitely hadn’t brushed my hair.

Yes, yes, stranger, I’ll let him get mucky, blah blah, I get the drift whilst nodding politely.

He then went on (still with his finger in JWop’s hand, eek!) for at least three minutes about how children should get dirty.  Yes, yes, he lives in the House of Hooks, its filthy Mr Stranger, he’ll be fine.

Let him get mucky, love.  It’ll be good for him.  Get mud in his hands.  Good for the immune system.

Then it became apparent that this guy had suddenly had an epiphany – what if this woman does what I say and then lets her baby get Really Really Really Mucky?!

After the look of panic came across his face, he started back-pedalling furiously:

“When I say get mucky, I don’t mean giving him anything too serious to play with, you know, that might be dangerous”

What does that mean, dear reader?  Don’t give him anything too serious to play with?  Something that might be dangerous?

Dearest reader, I think that this guy thought that his “get mucky” conversation in B&M Bargains had had such a profound effect on me that I was going to go home and let JWop maul a dog poo.

NOM NOM NOM.  Dog pooooooo, hmmmmmmmm, muckyyyyyyy!

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