Don't touch the mascot

This morning, I decided to take Reilly out to breakfast at the local diner. Lately, we have fallen into too much of a routine in the morning--wake up at 7:30am, bottle at 8:00am, breakfast at 8:30am, to the playground by 9:00am--so I decided it was time to mix it up.

The diner was neither cute nor boring, and was decorated in that odd beachy style that is synonymous with Florida and somewhat resembles a bistro crossed with a Tiki hut. We sat ourselves in the middle of a bunch of regulars and I looked over the menu. There was only one waitress working the joint, a pretty woman who lit up at the sight of Reilly. After answering the usual opening salvos (How old is she? What is her name? etc.) I ordered a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich on an english for me, a biscuit for Reilly.

While we waited for our food, Reilly snacked on Goldfish crackers and made friends with the locals. She was waving and smiling and playing cute with everyone. In no time, she had become the mascot of the restaurant, and the regulars were watching her every move, laughing when she threw her spoon to the floor, tsking when she crumbled her biscuit and used it to decorate the table. (The biscuits were great, by the way, homemade and cooked like a muffin.)

At one point, a man approached Reilly and said something along the lines of, "Aren't you so cute!" and gave her leg a gentle pinch. Reilly looked at me for approval, and I smiled to show her the man was okay, even though inside I was screaming "Don't touch the baby!" The man mentioned he had two daughters of his own, blah, blah, blah, I couldn't pay attention because I was trying to decide what the story was with the whole touching the baby thing.

In The City, no one would dare touch someone else's child--but down south people have no problem touching Reilly's face, arms, leg, whatever. Even though Reilly initiated contact with the man, I still think it is appropriate for a stranger to ask the parent before grabbing some thigh fat.

The thing is, I like how familiar southerners are, how they make eye contact, say hello to strangers, and make small talk without any pretense. But I have to draw the line at the baby touching. Even if my daughter is the mascot of the restaurant.