the good ol' department of motor vehicles

This morning, I made a trip over to the DMV to renew my driver's license. I hate the DMV. Today, however, I was delighted to find the place practically empty and walked right up to the counter. No lines. No wait. It was wonderful. But the DMV has a way of always being a rotten place to go, and just when I began to think I might not absolutely detest my experience, the clerk opened her mouth. Eying Ambrose in the mei tai on my back, she says, "Are you sure he's in there right?" A quick pat over my back and I assured her that yes, he was. "He won't fall out?" "Nope, he's nice and snug." "I bet he'll climb out one of these days. Aren't there any buckles or anything?" (WHAT?! No PLASTIC?! I can't believe it even WORKS!!!) "Oh, no. It's just cloth. It's really comfy." "Hm. Well, I bet he'll learn to climb out." (smiles at Ambrose) "Won't you?" "I hope not. He really likes it in there." "My daughter uses one of those...what are they called? Baby Bjorn. Those are nice." "Yeah." (Mentally rolling my eyes at her, and at everyone who truly thinks a baby bjorn holds a candle to a mei tai.) To her credit, she did go on to ask me where I got it, and said it was very pretty. This really wasn't the part of the conversation that irked me the most. Later on, she was confirming all the information on my old license. "Height and weight still the same?," she asked, peering over her glasses. "Yes." And truthfully, they were accurate--yes, weight too--even with being pregnant. She gave me a long once-over, smiled sympathetically and then said, "I understand." See you in four years, you mean old lady!