I love kids. Other peoples' kids. Especially in public.
Today I was eating lunch at La Madeleine after going to visit my new laptop and as per usual on a Wednesday afternoon was surrounded by the requisite number of Potomac Moms Who Lunch. They were all daintily attacking their food of choice while attempting to keep their tiny progeny from launching bits onto their, or others' Manolos while gabbing about who got what nose job or how many sports and languages they had enrolled their four-year-olds in this year so they'd get into Harvard when they grow up.
THere was one particularly well-coiffed young mom next to me, about my age, with a particularly adorable little tow-headed boy in a high chair next to her. SHe was sweetly cutting up little bits of chicken friand and offering them to him on the end of the fork, and he was having none of it. You know, that pursed-lipped, head-shaking, no-way-am-I-eating-that-stuff face. Eventually she backed off for a while, and he began to happily play with his napkin. Seing an open opportunity, she started toward him with the fork.
At this point, he put both arms up into the air in what all of us Southerners instantly recognize as the touchdown sign and bellowed "FUCK NO!" loudly and joyously.
The poor mom was so shocked she dropped the fork in her Kate Spade handbag. The other Moms just peered over with looks of supreme amusement and total understanding, while the rest of us proceeded to snarf our soup in an attempt not to howl laughing.
