Faith in Little Old Ladies: Restored. Humanity? Not so much...

While picking Mary Grace up from Daisy Scouts, today, I got into a conversation with a lovely little old lady (LoL) who was picking up her granddaughter.  Jack was dancing around on a folding chair, delighted with his own ability to pull himself up to standing, then bounce around a bit, then make Mommy squawk and freak out when he tried to dive off of the chair in a random direction (lather, rinse, repeat).

"You know," she said, "when a baby is that happy, you can tell that he gets lots and lots of love at home."

Ok, LoLs of the world, I forgive you for the comment about the curls.

I will NOT, however, be forgiving the denizens of Goodwill.  Ever.

So I was looking for a muumuu.  "Why why?" you might ask, and rightfully so.  Because, because I am attending a wedding on Saturday, and that was the suggested attire.

NoNo

The only place I could think of to find a muumuu was Goodwill, so off we went.  Indeed, they had a few, but they were all in regrettable patterns, and if I'm going to wear something with less shape than a bean bag chair, it had better at least be made out of cute fabric in flattering colors.

I'm standing in the aisle, looking through the dresses, and a woman is talking to Jack, who is in the cart beside me.

"Oh, aren't you a precious boy?  Aren't you happy?  Are you having fun shopping with GRANDMA today?"

That sound you hear is someone scratching the needle off of the record in my head.

I just turned to her and said, "Really?" and swore never to set foot in Goodwill again.

(The muumuu is a no no, anyway, particularly when one is nursing.  I will be wearing a skirt and top, instead, thank you very much.)