To the scandalized gentleman at Target today:
You know, I’d prefer not to feed my baby in public. My comfy chair, pillow, and best burp cloths are at home. But hey, I have to leave the house now and then and my baby has to eat. So I’ll make a deal with you: I’ll continue to feed my daughter by wearing her against me in my very discreet and all-parts-covering baby wrap and going to a secluded corner, and you try not to work so hard to look underneath the cloth. What do you think I have under there? Shoplifted pillows? Hoffa? Let the diaper bag and empty car seat in the cart be your first clue. Deal? Deal.