Mind Your Own Beeswax

I had a lunch meeting yesterday. It's not my habit to meet for lunch with total strangers but she insisted. So, we agreed to meet at a local restaurant just a few short blocks from my office. When I arrived, the restaurant was uncharacteristically busy and she showed up 10 minutes late. She, let's call her Diana, brought along her 13 month old grandson, let's call him Emilio. He was adorable and well behaved. . .until he screeched at the top of his lungs.

AaaaaaaaaaCccccKKK!

Uh oh. People turned and stared. Diana tried to quiet him gently, cooing and smiling at the excited Emilio. The waiter quickly seated us at our table. As we looked over our menus and shared some idle chit chat, Emilio did it again.

AaaaaCcccKKK!

At the table next to us sat two gray haired ladies. They looked over with obvious disdain, shaking their heads. One had the nerve to say, "It's time for him to go outside." Um, excuse me? We had just sat down. We hadn't yet ordered. We weren't going anywhere. Diana politely but with a bite in her tone said, "Oh no. He is a good baby. He is just over-excited. We won't be going anywhere." Apparently, that wasn't good enough for the two fussy hags. Throughout our meal, I could feel them looking over at us with contempt. For the record, contempt and a cup of soup does not a good meal make.

As we ate lunch and talked over details for an upcoming event, Emilio was happily eating his orange mush and taking in all the activity of the bustling room. I will give the kid credit. He had a knack for timing. Right when you'd least expect it, he'd screech. AaaaaaaaCccccKKK! I'd be talking about the budget and he'd go AaaaaaaaaCccKK! I'd be spooning soup into my mouth and he would go AaaaCcccKKK! It is a wonder I got out of there unstained by spilled food.

It really was a bit unnerving to tell you the truth. But he was so cute and besides the Tourettes, a good baby. As we packed up our stuff and readied ourselves to go, the old biddies motioned me over. Diana was busy with getting Emilio into his stroller. Biddy 1 said, "You know, it really doesn't do any good to say 'shhhh' to the baby when he screams like that. It only encourages him." Oh really? I don't care. It isn't my baby. I just want to get out of here. Biddy 2 chimes in saying, "My grandson would do the same thing and my daughter would gently put her hand over his mouth." As she said it, she demonstrated by bringing her flattened palm up to her open mouth. It looked more like she was demonstrating a child's game of Cowboys & Indians but who am I to judge. Apparently, that's their job.

I politely smiled a half-smile and said, "Oh? That's good to know. Thank you." But they couldn't let it lie. Biddy 1 continued staring at me with her beady eyes and I felt compelled to further explain. As I sped up the pace at which I was packing up my belongings I said, "I am actually just having a business meeting and don't really know them." (I am a scapegoating chicken!) "I don't feel it is my place to say anything. Besides, he really is a pretty good baby. Just very vocal." Biddy 1 and 2 looked at me in surprise and Biddy 1 said, "Oh, I thought he was your baby!" Then, in a conspirator's tone said, "I have NEVER encountered someone so rude in all my life." as she gestured with her eyes at Diana. I thought, lady, biddy lady, you gotta get out more. I sure as hell have met some real assholes. Diana was not rude, just protective of her grandson, probably like any of us would be. Well, except Biddy 1 and 2. They would NEVER be so "rude."

I wish I had little index cards, like flash cards, that I could whip out in such situations as I make my grand exit. For the biddies I would have flashed the "D*E*C*O*R*U*M" card and hastily tossed it at them as I dashed off, leaving them, mouths agape, to ponder their judgements and unsolicited advice. Mind your own beeswax you old hags!

I said my good-byes to Diana and Emilio and at a quickened pace made my way back to my office. Who would have thought I'd actually be anxious to return to work? Meddling old biddies and a Tourettes baby will do that to me I guess.