Scene: On the elevator up to the 6th floor of the parking garage at the hospital on Monday after Drew's well-baby appointment.
Older middle-aged lady who prattled on and on: "Oh, what a beautiful baby . . . I think he needs a hat . . . (blah, blah, blah) . . . seeing babies makes me miss the baby stage--except I really don't, you know . . . (blah, blah) . . ."
Me (brightly): "This is my 9th baby!"
Lady: " . . . (stunned silence) . . . What?! 9?! . . . Wow . . . Uh . . . Well, good luck . . . (lapse back into stunned silence) . . . "