This morning, I had a haircut appointment across town, miscalculated how long it would take me to get there, and showed up at the salon significantly early. My stylist, meanwhile, was running behind schedule because her previous client showed up late. So, with my newly-discovered period of free time, I decided to go across the street to a little cafe and just hang out.

I ordered a cup of coffee and a blueberry scone and sat down at a table next to a young couple with a two-year-old son. As I ate my breakfast, the little boy was doing about what you'd expect from a two-year-old ... chattering a lot, not showing much interest in eating his French toast, and just generally requiring a great deal of direction from his mom. This meant that there was a steady stream of noise from their table, but I didn't mind. About the time they finished eating, I pulled out my journal to spend the last few minutes before I needed to leave catching up on some writing. At the table next to me, the young couple got ready to leave, so the mom started cleaning syrup off the little boy and talking to him about where they were going next. As she was doing this, she turned around in her seat and saw me sitting there writing in my journal. Eyeing my pregnant belly and still talking to her son, she said in a knowing voice:

"Yes, honey, let's go now and let this nice lady enjoy her quiet time. It's clearly about to come to an end."

So true.