Please Pass the Baby

Yesterday, we went to a nearby restaurant called Shamiaat with a friend. It’s one of the better places in our area that serves local cuisine. The meal began uneventfully. At first, Natalie was content to sit in her car-seat on the stroller stand. However, as soon as our lentil soup arrived, she decided that she was sick of playing with her frog toy from Aunt Karen and started whining (a recent thing—it’s not a cry, but more a shriek saying that she wants better entertainment). She was somewhat fussier than usual because earlier that day she had her four-month check-up, which included some immunizations. [The pediatrician is a nice, US board-certified doctor, whose office is nearby. He told us that Natalie is growing nicely. She is now 6.18 kilos (13.6 lbs) and 24.8 inches long.]

Just as Natalie’s yells started to increase in volume, they stopped. She had noticed the couple sitting across from us and was smiling at them. The woman, who turned out to be nine-months pregnant, held out her arms for Natalie, so I obliged. Natalie was very happy to hang out with them while we finished our soup. They continued to hold her after my shish tawouk (basically a chicken shish kabob with fries) arrived. Finally, however, she had enough of playing with the woman’s phone and their bread basket, and yelled for an activity change. I took her back, and Aaron and I took turns bouncing her and showing her things around the room. Yet, Natalie soon tired of this, too, especially when I wouldn’t let her pull the tapestries off the wall.

I thought I was going to have to take her outside so she wouldn’t bother the other patrons, but then a waiter came by. First, he offered a piece of candy with a shiny wrapper for Natalie to look at. When that seemed insufficient, he motioned for me to give her to him. I figured I might as well. I’d heard that it’s normal for people in Syria to pass their babies off to others. I had a friend who was once riding in a service (mini-bus), and a woman, without asking, handed her a baby to hold for almost a half-hour while she did something else. Another friend has a two-year-old daughter who she regularly allows waiters to entertain at a restaurant she frequents.

The waiter whisked Natalie away to the center of the room where some other waiters were standing. Pretty soon they had all taken turns playing with and entertaining her. Our waiter passed her off to another and he to another. I can’t imagine a group of twenty-something-year-old men in the States being so excited about holding a baby. Next thing I knew, they had brought her back to look at the kitchen and then to the cooler where they stored all of the colorful drinks. Natalie was delighted and completely forgot about the discomfort from her shots. We finished eating dinner, and then the waiters returned an excited Natalie to us.

As we walked home, Natalie still didn’t want to sit in her car-seat, but she was happy to relax in my arms after her adventurous night on the town.