When He Cries, He Screams

Monday, heading home after a walk to Starbucks, I actually offered my child up to a stranger on the street. The Doodlebug was screaming--and not just his normal screams, but his blood-curdling someone-is-trying-to-do-me-grave-harm screams--and was nowhere near stopping. He'd been screaming off and on all day, and at this point, I'm walking home, trying to pretend like I don't know the baby in the Baby Bjorn on my chest who appears to be in the most severe pain of his life. Now, I'm not a mean mom. I had already tried to soothing sounds, the singing, the rubbing. But nothing was working. So I'm just staring everywhere else, like I can't hear his wails. A nice looking woman was walking down the street with a matching Baby Bjorn to mine, and in hers was an infant about the Doodlebug's age. Only this one was silent. Nary a peep. While mine is going on and on and on and on. As we passed, I asked the woman if she wanted to trade. That was a mistake because the Doodlebug apparently heard and wailed that much louder as punishment, even though I kept assuring him for the rest of the walk home that I was only kidding and that I'd keep him no matter what. Adam, on the other hand, had enough of the screaming that he might be willing to part with the Doodlebug if the price is right.