I went to Blockbuster tonight and was looking at the movies. A women with two toddler girls was standing nearby. Suddenly, one of the little girls shrieked in three-year-old rage, grabbed one of the shelves of movies, and ripped it off the wall, sending about two hundred movies cascading to the floor. Her mother and a store employee picked them all back up, the girl still screaming, the mother red with embarrassment. I smiled smugly to myself and thought, "Hey, maybe this whole infertility thing isn't that bad after all--at least I don't have to put up with that."
Then I went next door to the grocery store to get something for dinner. (Kielbasa, if you must know.) I got into line behind another woman with a toddler-age daughter. The woman was unloading her cart onto the checkout machine, and she held up a bunch of bananas to the little girl. She asked, "Honey, what's this? What are these?" The adorable little pink-clad baby smiled sweetly and said, "Na-na." The mom's face lit up with pride and she smiled that smile only parents have when they look at their children, and she said, "That's right, ba-na-na! Aren't you smart!" They looked so happy together, such a perfect mother and baby, that I tried to slit my wrists open with a People magazine.
Okay, not really, but I did feel like God was punishing me a little bit for gloating about the video store kid.