by Bruce Reinhardt

When a guy is going to be a dad, he usually longs for a boy, and he dreams of them playing football together, and of teaching the kid all about cars, and fishing, and all that cool stuff that only males get into. For a lot of guys, the thought of having a little girl is downright frightening…but I was totally up for it. Not that I had much choice in the matter…but when my baby girl, Erica, arrived, I was full of pride. And besides, it didn’t take me very long to figure out that a guy carrying around a little girl was just about as good a chick magnet as any puppy could ever be. Since I had crossed the threshold from dude-with-a-wife to the tired, haggard, has-been, worn out, bottle-brained new dad that I was, it gave me a boost to get attention from total strangers, and so, I took Erica everywhere with me.

One day, on yet another daddy-daughter outing (as in ANY excuse to get out of the house!), I took Erica to a supermarket. There we were, 9-month-old Erica and I, in the local supermarket on a Saturday morning ready to do a bit of shopping. Since Erica was still at the crawling stage, I carried her in my arms from the parking lot, and on into the store. As I’m making my way to the shopping carts, there is a woman – a RED head – who, typical for just about any member of the female persuasion, can’t hide her drooly craziness at the sight of a man cuddling a cute baby girl. Upon noticing her, notice me, I fumble single-handedly with a tangled up empty shopping cart just to make sure that this pretty, red-headed gal continues to pour her attention all over me…I mean, all over my cute daughter.

By this time “Red” starts feeling sorry for my one-armed fight with the cart so she comes over to assist me, the helpless, super-sensitive man. She takes one melty look at my blue-eyed Erica, clutched protectively to her daddy’s strong chest, and then Red takes another melty look, this time up at me. My ego soars, and to milk the situation for all it was worth, I flirt with the Red by introducing my daughter to her. Right on cue, as Red looks adoringly at my daughter, Erica greets her with an approving spit bubble. The not-so-bad lookin’ lady laughs aloud, that kind of intimate-wanna-be-a-mother sort of laugh, and my ego continues to inflate like a weather balloon.

The shopping cart is finally free and in a low Barry White voice I ask the Red, “Would you happen to know where the formula is?” As I’m taking in the panting spaniel qualities of Red, who must have been delighted that I would ask for her instinctual help in locating the formula, I move Erica into a two-handed-under-the-armpits-grip, in order to place her into the seat of the shopping cart. While my face looks to the right, and is fully distracted by the Red’s precise aisle directions, Erica is poised over the front of the cart which is to my left. I automatically lower my baby girl down into the seat of the cart, though just as I am letting go, I suddenly realize that the cart isn’t actually there. The cart had silently rolled, unnoticed, away from my side, and I dropped my little girl right onto the floor!

In a span of a few seconds, which felt like a lifetime, several things happened:

1. Red’s pouty-perfect ruby lips turned into a grotesque grimace.

2. Erica’s diaper-padded baby butt makes floor contact with an enormous “Whack!”.

3. The only silent, non-squeaking shopping cart in the entire store manages to also hit an old man in a walker.

4. My ego deflates like the crash of the Hindenberg.

5. And Erica’s scream nearly shatters the supermarket windows.

My attention, of course, for the next minutes, hours, and days, went to the tender, over-protective care of my poor, sweet, little Erica. As time went on, I did make a few more trips to that same grocery store, but never again did I see the adoring, and interested, red-headed lady. It pretty much seemed as though she vanished from the face of the planet. I always held Erica a little closer from then on, and to this day, I make sure to grab only the noisy shopping carts, with stiff wheels, whenever I go to the grocery store.