Cafe conversations...or should it be cafe confessionals?
Basking in the smoke-free environs of Mos Burger (That's Mountain...Ocean...Sun) We were keeping the baby in the booth next to us occupied.
As I eyed the baby I enjoyed the sandwich pictured above. Leave it to the Japanese to combine a bun made of grilled, pressed rice. Then, add a pork cutlet covered in tangy curry sauce. There was, to my surprise, a dollup of macaroni salad in there, too... Maybe seven different tastes in one palm-sized appetite suppressant. But, back to the baby...
Stick your tongue out, squint, it doesn't really matter, Baby X was wholly and drool-profanely entertained. But that is not the main point.
Turns out, with a bit of eavesdropping (C'mon, how can you not, when the next table is 0.2 meters away?) that the baby's mother is married. Before you start tossing rice at her and buying her that new Hamilton Beach food processor, she has...Well, to put it simply...Married the wrong man.
Halt, and judgeth not, you cry out. Wait wait, before you boil that tar and pluck those chickens.
This man you see, has forgotten something. He forgot to tell his family that...
1. Hey mom, I'm married.
2. Hey mom, we've had a daughter.
3. Hey mom, I'm sooooo walking away from all this commitment.
Yowser! I have never heard of that before. But, as today is evidence of, it does happen.
The baby was a cut little diapered bundle of Joy. Uber-genki as they say.
The mom wasn't so bad, but has a killer wave of issues, including Bad hubby, Bad marriage, Baby and no job. Her friends seemed quite genuine to pitch in.
What are friends for?
Oh, if these cafe/bathroom/hotel room walls could talk!
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