My baby is 10 months old.

Not a day goes by that she doesn’t hear how “big” she is from strangers.

The other day I took some boots to get resoled. There was this Jersey chode in front of me who was loudly asking the nice shoe cobbler all kinds of invasive questions . The cobbler was gamely answering. The questions were about his age, about when he was married, his wife’s age, his daughter’s age. Blah, blah, blah. He was a rude person.

This rude person then turned his attention to me and my baby, who was in her Ergo.

Man: Oh, look at that baby.

Me: Yup.

Him: Boy?

[Kit is dressed entirely in purple and pink.]

Me: A girl.

Him: How old?

Me: 10 months (bracing for it)

Him: WOW! SHE’S BIG! WHAT A BIG GIRL!

Me: Yes.

Him: Wow! [looks at the shoe cobbler] Look at this big baby!

Me: [Sweetly to Kit] And Kit, look at this average man!

Me: [Continuing to smile.]

Me: [Continuing to smile.]

Me: [Continuing to smile.]

Him: [Stunned. Then awkwardly laughing] I guess I asked for it, huh?

Me: [Still smiling] It’s considered rude these days to comment on children’s appearances.

And then I kissed the top of my daughter’s head so he wouldn’t see my eyes water out of pure, unadulterated anger. Not because she was called “”big” (that’s ridiculous) but because even she was so vastly superior to him. She shouldn’t even have to share the air with that asshole. She should not subjected to him talking about what she looks like at 10 months! SHE IS A FUCKING BEAUTIFUL BABY. JESUS CHRIST ON A STICK. IF YOU CAN’T SAY SOMETHING NICE, DON’T SAY ANYTHING AT ALL.

The man eventually left and the cobbler rolled his eyes at me. “Sorry about that,” he said. 

I sighed. And handed him my boots.

Not five minutes later at Walgreen’s, a woman called Kit “big” while we shopped for garbage bags.

Since then, I’ve thought about my comeback: “Look at this average man!” When what I really wanted to say was: “Kit, look at this below-average man! It is your path in life to destroy stupid, uninteresting men like him and eat them for breakfast. Then, you need to break their desecrated corpses over your knee and then take  over the world with your amazing height and brilliance all before lunch when you will then eat more assholes that that as your first course. [INSERT THE DEAN SCREAM HERE]”

But I can’t do that every time someone says she’s big because I just re-read that sentence and I’m scared of myself.

“Big” will continue to happen. And I need to go through my days not getting getting into verbal confrontations every time some Basic Bitch says it. 

So I figured out a solution.

When people say “What a big girl.” I smile and say right back, “She’s amazing.”

“She’s amazing.”

“She’s amazing.”

“She’s amazing.”

It is my hope that as Kit grows and hears “big,” she will hear my echo of “amazing.” That “amazing” will negate some of the harshness. It will let her know she is worthy, she is loved, she is amazing.

She is so much more than her size.

And then she will grow up unfazed by her ability to reach things from the top shelf and won’t bemoan the fact that zero of her shirts reach her wrists.

Every time she hears “big,” she will shrug. She will grow up to find another kind, tall person who is in awe of her composure and height. Together, they  will  go on to create giant babies together (if that is what she so desires).

And when she sees other healthy, lovely babies out and about in her kick-ass life,  she will say, “What an amazing baby.” 

And the mother will beam.