I take comments personally, when I should’ve learned from my single years that people’s comments are a fact of life

I usually adore going to Costco, even though the majority of their bulk items aren’t quite practical for a family of 2.3. But the wide spaces! The bountiful produce! And now with a baby, the mega boxes of diapers, wipes, and Cheerios are a pleasure.

But since last summer, a wave of anxiety washes over me when I enter Costco.

It started when I took the baby there for the first time. In order to get to the blueberries, carrots, and mushrooms, I had to enter the refrigerated hangars. It was quite refreshing for an adult on such a sweltering day, but suddenly the baby’s weather-appropriate attire became a deathtrap.

I carefully positioned the cart so I could keep my eyes on him while I backed inside the hangar, hands waving wildly behind me in an attempt to grab a bag of lettuce without looking. I’m watching him!

“Whose baby is this?”

“Mine! Mine! I’m watching him!”

Her disapproval was quite clear. “Someone could walk off with him, you know.”

I was six steps away.

“It’s so cold in there, I don’t want him to get sick,” I protested.

Too late. She started lecturing me. I nodded dutifully, wondering how I was going to buy lettuce without giving my baby pneumonia and/or letting him get kidnapped.