I’m pretty friendly with strangers and chatting with people is natural to me—most Canadians are super friendly.

That said, some people are just plain weird. Especially when you happen to have a child in a stroller with you.

Here are a few “WTF” interactions I had with people lately.

MINE, I SWEAR!

(I am browsing the magazine section at Chapters with Mark in the stroller. A middle-aged woman has been observing us for a good five minutes. Eventually, she speaks out.)

The woman: “The baby… he wasn’t born here, was he?”

Me: “Huh?”

The Woman: “You baby wasn’t born in Canada, was he?”

Me, pretty loudly: “Oh, I can guarantee you he came out of my vagina! I have pictures of the labour too!”

(The woman gave me a death look and walked away. What? Never seen biracial babies before?)

GO THE *** TO SLEEP

(Mark finally passed out in the stroller and I am reading a book at Chapters when two older women walk by.)

Woman #1: “Oh, look at the little angel!”

(She pokes Mark, who was napping in the stroller, on the cheek)

Woman #2: “Look how deeply he is sleeping!”

(Mark opens his eyes)

Me: “Was sleeping…”

DESPERATE FOR A GIRL

(Mark and I are at the neighbourhood playground. A mother starts a conversation.)

The mother: “Is it a boy?”

Me: “Yes, his name is Mark.”

The mother: “Your first one?”

Me: “Yes.”

The mother: “What did you do to have a boy?”

Me: “Er… I… got pregnant and there was a 50/50 chance?”

The mother: “So lucky! I only got girls so far. Hopefully next time I will have a boy. If not, I’ll try one last time. I really want a baby boy!”

(I felt sorry for her two lovely baby girls!)

LOST IN GENDER

(Mark and I are at the checkout at the supermarket. Mark is smiling and a woman stops to smile back at him.)

The woman: “Hello you! She is very cute.”

(Although I do dress Mark like a baby boy and I think there is little doubt on the fact he is a boy, I know it’s sometime hard to tell with babies, so I don’t take offense. I usually correct people nicely.)

Me: “Thank you! His name is Mark.”

The woman: “Hello little doll! She has the nicest smile!”

Me: “I guess HE is in a good mood today!”

The woman, waving bye-bye: “Be a good girl, okay?”

Me: “… He will!”

FOOD SNOBBERY

(I’m browsing the “baby foods” section at the supermarket, looking for new snack ideas for Mark—crackers, fruit purees, etc.. Another woman is browsing as well, a frown on her face.)

Me: “It’s not easy to find foods they like, isn’t it?

The woman: “What? Oh my God, I would never give my baby any of this crap! This is poison! I cook all of her meals from scratch, of course. Using organic products.”

(So what the hell you are doing browsing the “baby foods” section?!)

WRONG BALLPARK

(I’m having a coffee with a friend. A guy walks by and Mark smiles at him.)

The guy: “How old he is? Three? Four?”

Me: “… Eight months.”

(Hint: when a baby is not walking, not talking and has no teeth, chances are he is less than a year old!)

BABY POLICE

(I’m trying on sunglasses in a department store. I’m standing in front of the display and Mark is in the stroller, right beside me, happily chewing on his toy. A salesperson walks up to me.)

The salesperson: “You can’t do that. Store policy.”

Me: “I’m sorry… do what?”

The salesperson: “You must have one hand on the stroller at all time. Store policy.”

Me: “I’m right beside him!”

The salesperson: “One hand on the stroller please. It’s a crazy world out here.”

Me, walking away: “It’s Ottawa, on a Monday afternoon at 2 p.m. and there isn’t a single customer in your store!”

BABY POLICE II

(I’m having a coffee and Mark is playing with one of his socks. That’s his newest trick: he takes off his socks and plays with them, or plays with his feet. A woman walks by.)

The woman: “I’m sorry but your baby is chewing his sock.”

Me: “I know, that’s fine.”

The woman, with a look of disgust on her face: “Baby, socks are yucky. Yucky!”

Me: “Not his! We wash our clothes, don’t we, Mark?”

(What? It’s a freaking sock! Mark isn’t even walking yet, chewing on a sock is like chewing on a toy!)