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rivkaA pigeon crapped on my baby.
Alex and I went out to lunch with my friend from childbirth class, Emily, and her daughter Zoe. We walked up from Emily's house to Cafe Hon, a Baltimore home-cooking institution with meatloaf on the menu, homemade desserts, and middle-aged waitresses who got all googly-eyed over our babies. I had a magnificent shrimp-salad sandwich and a piece of carrot cake, but only because I didn't know until after Emily's dessert arrived that the hot fudge sundaes are made with homemade fudge. We ate and talked and compared babies, and then wandered back to Emily's.
I set Alex's car seat on the pavement while I folded the stroller and put it in the trunk, and then bent down to buckle her in. Just as I finished buckling the straps there was a sudden splat. A pigeon crapped on my baby.
"Did that really just happen?" I heard myself say.
"One pigeon," Emily said. "There was just one pigeon in the entire sky."
Fortunately, the carseat buckle caught almost all of the mess - although the little shorts from Alex's dress-and-shorts set also got slimed. I grabbed her hands to keep them clean and asked Emily to get the baby wipes from my diaper bag. I kept laughing hysterically, and Emily kept apologizing for the behavior of Hampden pigeons. Alex was nonplussed. We came on home and told Michael all about it, and he washed the carseat straps with disinfectant.
Because a pigeon crapped on our baby. My mother never warned me about this.
Alex and I went out to lunch with my friend from childbirth class, Emily, and her daughter Zoe. We walked up from Emily's house to Cafe Hon, a Baltimore home-cooking institution with meatloaf on the menu, homemade desserts, and middle-aged waitresses who got all googly-eyed over our babies. I had a magnificent shrimp-salad sandwich and a piece of carrot cake, but only because I didn't know until after Emily's dessert arrived that the hot fudge sundaes are made with homemade fudge. We ate and talked and compared babies, and then wandered back to Emily's.
I set Alex's car seat on the pavement while I folded the stroller and put it in the trunk, and then bent down to buckle her in. Just as I finished buckling the straps there was a sudden splat. A pigeon crapped on my baby.
"Did that really just happen?" I heard myself say.
"One pigeon," Emily said. "There was just one pigeon in the entire sky."
Fortunately, the carseat buckle caught almost all of the mess - although the little shorts from Alex's dress-and-shorts set also got slimed. I grabbed her hands to keep them clean and asked Emily to get the baby wipes from my diaper bag. I kept laughing hysterically, and Emily kept apologizing for the behavior of Hampden pigeons. Alex was nonplussed. We came on home and told Michael all about it, and he washed the carseat straps with disinfectant.
Because a pigeon crapped on our baby. My mother never warned me about this.
