Sunday, March 22, 2009
Do people really want to help.....
...or are they just offering because it is the polite thing to do? It has been about 3 years since the event I am about to explain to you took place. I think I may have finally recovered enough to tell it. Let's see how it goes...
Picture this: Me. Alone. 3 month old twin infants. Grocery Store. Baby Bjorn.
As any parent of more than one child knows. Kids are born with their personality built right into them. We, as parents, don't get a choice. Some kids are always harder than others. This, of course, was the case with my twins. My son was (and still is) a harder kid. He's not so easy going...enough said. He was born this way. My daughter on the other hand is a quiet, easy going, little angel. She is content 99.9% of the time. Barely ever cries. You get the picture. Now...let me get on with my story.
I am in the grocery store. I have two babies...one in the car seat on the shopping cart and the other in a baby bjorn carrier. I figure I will put my son in the Bjorn since he (like I explained) is usually the one to cry. My daughter is in the carseat. I am in the store about 2 minutes. While dreamily gazing at the Hostess items all hell breaks loose. My daughter begins to scream. An ear piercing 3 month old, shrill scream. After a brief moment of shock I decide I need to get my son out of the Bjorn and get her in it. Easier said than done.
The Bjorn is like an frigging octopus. All straps and buttons and clips everywhere. I am starting to sweat profusely. I can't get the straps off. If I do get the straps off where do I set him while I put her in the Bjorn? How can I swap them both without having to set one literally on the floor? This is when "he" enters the picture...
He is your typical Orange County, CA kinda guy. Late 40's. Oozing wealth. Expensive suit. Fancy watch. Manicured nails. The whole Deal. He looks up at me and asks...Do you need help? Never thinking, I am sure, that I would say yes. But I did. Surprising the both of us I think.
I grabbed my daughter from her carseat and with perfectly straight arms I held her out to him. He gave me and then her a look that contained both shock and a bit of regret. Maybe even a tiny bit of disgust. He did take her. He held her about 3 feet out away from his body. Her little feet dangling. I finished wrestling with that Bjorn and finally won. Got my son in the seat and took her back. Thanked him for his help and carried on with my Hostess fantasies.
As he walked away I wondered though. How many times do people offer help but don't really want to give it. He was obviously raised well enough to ask. To be polite. But is it polite if the offer is not geniune?
Tell me what you think... Has something similar happened to you?