my expertise

Some days – especially with the teething – the only way Isaac gets a decent nap is on our walks in his carrier. However, he’s not the itty-bitty baby that sleeps through anything anymore. There are many obstacles (read: people) in the way of Iz staying asleep.

My first problem here is that this is Touristville. If you live in a town where the stores have signs in their front windows enthusiastically advertising the fact that they sell batteries, you live in a tourist area. The rec trail is full of laughing or bickering families riding those rented bike surreys, all ready to spring my boy awake from his midday snooze. It is also filled with couples dying to stop someone and ask him or her to take their picture. More times than not, that someone seems to be me. And there is any number of folks in a day who need directions to places that range from the beach to the drycleaner.

But my very favorite episode so far of someone unthinkingly approaching the woman with the sleeping child was the old lady walking her dog who stopped me to help her get a tissue out of her pocket. "Excuse me!" she said, the old lady tremble in her voice raised to a pitch that made Isaac stir and frown, though his eyes stayed closed. Her small dog jumped up, reaching my knee and bumping Isaac’s feet in his excitement.

I may have wanted to pantomime my dismay, to tell her I couldn’t do it, that if he woke up I’d want to die, that this half hour was the peace I had been waiting for since 5 am. But I smiled, imagined arthritis, whispered "Sure." I reached into her windbreaker to retrieve the Kleenex she’d asked for. Afterwards, she was ever-so grateful. Only then did she reveal to me that she’d needed my assistance because she’d managed to dip her fingers in dog poop, and so couldn’t reach in herself.

I guess I must have looked like someone who knew about poop.