So, as I’ve mentioned before, Baby Jay looks nothing like Husband or I. We both have dark brown hair, brown eyes, and dark complexions, whereas Baby Jay has really fair skin, red hair, and light-brown eyes (that have these weird circles under them, which is something I’ve been meaning to Ask Moxie about).

Anyway, his appearance certainly attracts a lot of attention in our provincial little town, and at least twice a day I have someone stopping me to ask, “Is he adopted? Did you use donor eggs? Where did he come from?” (The girls at the vegetable market are the worse for this–it’s like they have nothing to do all day but chat up the customers.) I try to take a deep breath before I answer, because although Baby Jay is too young to understand now, soon he’ll be able to sense the tone in my voice, and I don’t want to get upset and give him the idea that his background is something to be ashamed or angry about. So sometimes I say, “Why do you ask?” and try to turn the conversation back to them. If I’m in a hurry I might say, “That’s Jay’s history to share when he’s old enough.”

Today, though, I was at the vegetable market–where else?–and this trashy-looking teenager at the turnip stand starts gushing, “Look at that hair! You don’t see that too often around here! Is he yours? Where was he born?” and you have to understand, I had just spent half the morning standing in line at the orange sellers where no fewer than five people had made incredibly rude remarks about Baby Jay, and although her question doesn’t sound particularly bad now that I’m blogging about it, it just set me over.the.edge.

So I snapped, “He’s the Son of God and he was born in a manger, okay? Is that enough information for you or do you want to see my episiotomy scar?”

So she got all huffy and said, “I just asked,” and then I felt kind of bad, but maybe next time she’ll think twice about getting all up in a stranger’s business. I just hope she doesn’t start gossiping with the other checkout girls, because God knows what they’ll say.

So then we went home and I made Jay a grilled cheese sandwich, which is THE ONLY thing he’ll eat nowadays. What’s up with that?