This evening, a woman about my age (50+) was loading a toddler into one of those shopping carts with the miniature car attached to the front for youngsters to be (supposedly) entertained while being kept from being underfoot.
The little girl was being kinda fussy, so I stopped to distract her (I have no shame, and will make the most outrageous faces to get any little kid to smile - ask my oldest about photos of me getting Kate to smile).
The woman thanked me, and so I mentioned how much I liked having my grandchildren around to have a reason to use such carts (people look at you real funny if you try to crawl into the kids front seat or the child-apparatus like the car).
She said, "Oh, yes, it's fun with my grandkids, but this is my daughter." Middle-age accident, much like my parents had with ME.
I'm so glad I don't have a uterus any more.
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