“Well, hello there!” he says, to us. “What a beautiful little girl you are!”

“Thank you,” says Morgan.

“Yes, what a beautiful little girl.  I’ve got three granddaughters myself. Yep, three little girls.  What a beautiful little girl you have.” He went to expound about the branches on his family tree and peppered his comments with his delightful question.

“So did you have her yourself?” 

What the hayle?!

I pulled up short, almost giving Morgan nursemaid’s elbow in the process and just looked at this guy.  But he didn’t even notice, he just kept on talking. “Of course you did. She’s just beautiful, blah, blah, blah, blah “

I just blinked at him in disbelief. I’m always caught off guard when someone flashes gargantuan amounts of ignorance in my face, and his total lack of couth was winking and blinking like the Vegas strip.  

I’d like to say this was my first exposure to the colossal gall people have, but we all know that’s not true.  And still, I am always unprepared with a response, partly because I’m so surprised that it happens in the first place and partly because, well, I just can’t come up with a scathing enough retort in time.  I’m too busy picking my mouth up off of the floor. 

I will say that of the more ridiculously nervy questions I’ve been asked, this one makes the top three.  The runner’s up include:

1.  Do your daughters have the same father? (seriously, what makes you think it’s okay to ask me this? I don’t know you and even if I did, don’t ask me stupid shiggity like that!)

2.  Do you like the family that you nanny for? (because even though they’re calling me ‘Mommy’, because I’m pushing them around in the stroller at the mall on a Tuesday at 10am, I’m the nanny.)

You know, I used to love to read Mad Magazine, especially Al Jaffee’s sketches called “Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions.”  Time to dust out some back issues.  

Either that or a shiv.