Crotchfruit

Seriously? I did a story this week about babies in bars, a la Sweet Home Alabama, the scene where Reese Witherspoon goes, "You have a baby! In a bar!" But attitudes have changed quite a bit since that 2002 movie especially in hipster neighborhoods where hipster parents still want to have lives post-baby. Not us! We like staying in our house like hermit crabs emerging only to get the requisite allotment of sunshine so Emmy can make Vitamin D for strong bones so she can fight the new girl at Gymboree who sucker punched her the other day.

But I digress. I guess I'm pretty easygoing when it comes to parenting. I thought I would be super uptight and demanding per normal but when it comes to parenting I am easy breezy. As long as you're not endangering your child or causing pain, I think Bob Marley. Everything's gonna be all right.

The Good Doctor has a parenting alter ego. He is the coolest, chillest, nicest, easygoing dude, a Type B+ to my Type A++. Even my blood type is A positive. Nothing less than the best for me! But The Good Doctor becomes the Brigadier General when it comes to Emmy. It is his Sasha Fierce. Rules! Routine! A right way! A wrong way! Plan plan plan! 

Again with the digression. My point is, whatever, if you want to bring your Bjorn full of baby to the bar and throw back a brew, I don't see the big deal. But some adamant barflies do. It's baby buzz kill and they started attacking parents aka 'breeders' and calling the babies 'crotchfruit' in the numerous comments posted to similar stories that have been done in the past. Seriously? I think that is about the ugliest way to refer to a baby that I've ever heard.

Especially when you were a crotchfruit yourself. You crotchfruit face.