Happy New Year y’all!
Another busy holiday season. Although I didn’t check off a list, I’m sure I served people from every country in the world, and whether they came from Dubai or Norway or Korea or Russia they all spoke “a leetle” English, and asked me the same questions
- Where’s the restroom?
- Is the photography upstairs?
- Where can I get a cup of coffee?
I hesitated for a moment when a woman asked me for directions to the family restroom, as its difficult to find tucked away at the back of one of the galleries, and I wanted to give her easy-to-follow directions.
“It’s for my daughter. She needs to feed the baby,” she said pointing behind her.
I don’t know why she thought I needed an explanation. Though the family restroom is a quiet place, specially designated for women to feed their babies in private, anyone can use it.
I can’t wait to become a Granny [!] and I love babies, so of course I looked behind her to see the baby. There was only one person behind her, a small, skinny girl, who couldn’t have been more than twelve years old – okay thirteen at the most – carrying a baby in a baby carrier on her little chest.
I hope I managed to wipe the shock and any judgement off my face. I congratulated the young mother, made suitable cooing sounds to the baby who was really cute, and taking out a map of the museum I showed them exactly where they had to go, then watched them walk off in the wrong direction.
I don’t know why this woman told me, a stranger behind a cash register in a museum, that it was her teenage daughter who needed to feed the baby. I had a strong feeling she needed to sit down and tell someone the story. My guess is that the father of the baby was not a teenage boy…
My heart breaks for both of them. If that poor little girl was my daughter I would have given up that baby for adoption.
I look forward to reading your thoughts …