Craigslist Parenting Missed Connections
Passed you yesterday on 9th street. You were: exhausted-looking woman in her mid 40s wearing a trench coat and holding a mylar Paw Patrol balloon. I was: woman with Nutella and dried blood on her forehead (don’t ask) pushing a 3 1/2 year old in a broken stroller. Felt like we had both had a similarly rough day. E-mail if you’d like to meet for coffee!!
To the blonde mother in the red floral top at Best Buy. We were in there yesterday around 3:30. My child was having a hunger-driven breakdown and you held up a bag of Goldfish while mouthing the words, “Do you want any for him?” while being discreet enough not to let him see the bag in case I said no. I am madly in love with you and think that we should run away together. Thoughts?? My e-mail is enclosed. Let me know what you were buying in body of the e-mail so that I know it’s you.
You: Friendly guy in the 14th street PATH station who said “Would you like help with the stroller?” and then proceeded to carry it up several flights of stairs to street level. Wish I had said something at the time, but thought you were super nice. Would love to maybe get your number so that I can call you this weekend when I will once again be in the 14th street station and will have to get up those stairs.
Hello!! Met you yesterday at the super crowded Van Vorst playground. Your daughter had been licking the cast iron fence and then broke into a hysterical screaming tantrum when you asked her to stop. We all looked over to see how you’d handle it and after 5 minutes of listening to her scream you looked at me (I was the one in the green sweatshirt!) and stared pleadingly into my eyes before vanishing into thin air, your body replaced by a cloud of Monarch butterflies that ascended toward the sun. The other parents and I were super curious as to how you did that and wanted to know if you’d be willing to take us through it step by step??? Please let us know! Hope you are doing ok!
This is a long shot but worth a try! We met Wednesday afternoon at Prato bakery where I had been reading a book about Earthquakes to my kid and you had been working alone on a laptop two tables down. You came over and said, “I’m so sorry to interrupt and didn’t meant to eavesdrop, but I was just so moved and impressed by the way you interact with your son.” My eyes immediately filled with tears since that was the nicest thing anyone had said to me in the past 18 months. I totally should’ve gotten your name and asked if you wanted to grab a coffee but instead I wrapped my arms around you in a deep embrace until my body was absorbed into yours the way the bodies of male anglerfish attach to (and parasitically fuse into) the bodies of the females. Apologies if that was a little too forward! If I can figure out how to un-weld myself from you I’d love to grab a coffee sometime if you’re interested? Plz message me if you find this! E-mail is enclosed!
Hi—I’m the mom with small gray terrier that met you last week on the sidewalk outside WORD bookstore. You knelt down and told my young son a sweet and totally heartfelt story about your childhood dog to which my son responded, “I’m sorry, that story was a little bit boring.” You smiled and said it was fine because he’s just a kid and then I handed you a knife and asked you to cut out my eyes and my heart so that my physical pain would match the humiliation I felt when my son belittled the story about your dead dog. Such a longshot that you’ll even check on here, but hope you find this so I can grab your number and continue apologizing to you for the next four billion years until the sun explodes.
Not sure if you’ll remember me. You were sitting with a friend in Starbucks talking about how you had been considering having a third child. I was the woman two tables over who leapt from her chair and knocked over a display case of mugs while screaming the words, “DON’T DO IT!” Wanted to say I’m sorry for making you spill your coffee but I stand by my words.
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Thanks for reading. If you’d like to see more of what I write, please follow The Ugly Volvo on Facebook or Tviiiiiiitter. If you’re pregnant or know someone who’s pregnant (or who has a young child), I wrote a book called Welcome to the Club that’s a wonderful gift for anyone with a sense of humor and a small human life for which they are (or will soon be) responsible. You can totally buy it at amazon, target, barnes and noble or indiebound.
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