Pregnant, huh?

The Parent Bloggers Network has posed the question: What's the most annoying preggo or new mom question you've ever been asked -- AND -- what's your best, snarky "wish-you-could-have-said-it" answer. I've been mulling this over the past few days, and - whew - it's a hard one. I've come to the conclusion that I must have had a pretty respectful pregnancy. Not even much of a run-in with those "touchy feely" types who just have to rub a pregnant belly when they spot one.

But... and I think I have a tie...

It used to drive me outta my head when I was in the late stages of pregnancy, and doing my best hippo imitation, and I would run across people who just didn't know what to say. Rather than a question, they were usually declarations in the vein of: Pregnant, huh? Poor thing, carrying that around... Must be almost time? Must be twins in there! And on, and on.... Usually as I puffed my way to the employee cafeteria, or out to my car. These would earn the commenter a small smile, and not much snark as I was usually trying to catch my breath. Honestly... I am not much known for snark, even in my private life. Just not in my nature. But... I used to fantasize a re-enactment of a scene straight out of Seinfeld where Kramer stops to talk to a woman on the street and says: "Oh! Congratulations!"

Woman: "For what?"

Kramer: "You're pregnant."

Woman: "I am not!"

And leaving the culprit to squirm...

In a close tie, I am getting more than irritated with the folks who stop on the street, in the grocery store or in a restaurant or elsewhere to talk to me/comment on Daniel and I come to realize they are using the pronoun "she." A haircut is certainly in the works for the little guy, but we currently have wrestling/screaming matches involving getting in his general vicinity with a toothbrush or cutting his fingernails. Until that calms down somewhat there ain't nobody getting near him with a pair of scissors. And - I confess - I get to enjoy the baby curls awhile longer. But honestly... the kid could be wearing his shirt with the digger emblazoned across the front, his Thomas the Tank Engine sunglasses, dirt encrusted under his fingernails from his own latest digging expedition and screaming at the top of his lungs about climbing up the slide at the playground and I hear how cute "she" is. Thank you, but the next time I will be sorely tempted to drop the kid's diaper and in the words of Austin Powers show off the "twig and berries" just to prove a point.

I am a reader. I always have been, as my overflowing bookshelves can attest. Don't you wish sometimes that you could just hand someone a book and say,"Quit bugging me. Read this." Or in cases like above don't you wish you could have just handed them this? I know I do.