This Has to Stop Happening

I was at the grocery store with my baby today and inevitably a stranger starts goo-goo-shmoo-shmoo-poo-poo-doo-doo-moo-moo-coo-coo-cuckoo at the baby. And then, right on cue, I start talking. Through the baby. Except my voice isn't my voice. It's really, really high. Like only dogs should be able to hear it. And I don't speak in complete sentences because, you know, I'm a baby. Except not. I'm the baby's mom. But the baby doesn't talk. So I am doing a really bad impression of the baby talking to a stranger as the baby sits there making no noise.

And then, as my voice reaches a fevered pitch -- so high I am positive the cantaloupes next to me are going to explode -- I drool. Like on myself. Like down my chin. Right in the middle of my baby talk/impression/puppeteering.

Poetic.