Kids These Days

We bought an E3. Yesterday, determined to make the most of my last days at home, I loaded Lumpyhead and Lula into their sweet new double-decker ride and took them for a walk. After nearly turning them both upside down on the three steps out of the door (the new stroller is pretty heavy), things went pretty smoothly.

The stroller is an extravagance. We saved a lot of money using Aunt Bob’s strollers, car seats, high chair and other baby gear, which is how we justified the purchase. Also, we liked the idea of having a double stroller that wasn’t double-wide, and this was the only one we could find.

I walked down the hill with a “look at my nifty new stroller!” air. I managed to wriggle the new vehicle through the entrance of the drugstore (Does anyone know a graceful way to maneuver a stroller through doors? I don’t do this often enough to be any good at it. I went through the door backwards, then pulled the stroller through the door after me. Is there a better way to do it?). I bought Lumpyhead a green ball for a buck-fifty, which he clutched the entire ride home, dropping it only once to gesticulate wildly and yell at a passing bus.

On the way back to the house, I saw three young men crawl out of a late-model Honda. Sporting oversized hoodies, they were old enough to be taller than me, but still too young to be prosecuted as adults. They loitered on the corner after the car pulled away.

I started to worry about wrestling my fancy behemoth stroller around them. One of them was standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When I got close, his companion chided him, “Get out of the way for the lady with the stroller,” in a tone that implied, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the boy said, quickly stepping completely off the wide sidewalk and into the boggy grass.

The thugs in my neighborhood are incredibly polite.

That, or I’m a judgy asshole.