"How old is your baby?"

The age question is The Question. I hear it constantly while toting around Abbie. People apparently feel a need to establish some level of verbal communication with the parents before making goofy faces and noises at the baby. Disturbingly enough, some people are impressed that I know my child well enough to rattle off her age accurately to the half-month. I guess I'm not one of those fathers who leaves the baby in the care of its mother, only taking charge of the child when mommy loses conciousness and sprawls across the kitchen floor in exhaustion after attempting to dice one-too-many carrots for dinner.

So speaking of exhaustion and dinner, I was too exhausted to prepare anything for dinner after the weekend with the grandparents, so we went out to eat fast food. I grabbed Abbie on our way out the door, and stopped at the drink dispenser to get a refill when I heard The Question. I could tell the wannabe goofy-facemaker directed her question at someone other than me, and since I knew the wife was throwing away our trash, I ignored The Question. I then heard the question again, and turned to see the woman was asking the complete stranger high school girl standing next to me how old "her baby" was. Poor thing. She probably just came out for free water and unlimited breadsticks while discussing potential plot lines in the next OC when some strange woman morbidly embarrasses her.

I had a good laugh at the wilting girl's expense and left, asking my wife how someone could think I could have fathered a child with someone about 8 years younger than me. She told me to take it as a compliment. Probably true, considering that I never could have dated a girl who looked like that even when I actually was in high school. I then reminded my wife that she's the most beautiful girl in the world. Or should have.