The Wee Ones

Scots are so kind to kids.  We noticed as soon as we got there that instead of receiving annoyed glares, the kids were smiled at and enjoyed.  A friend here told me that they have a custom of putting money into the prams of strangers as they stroll their babies around.  I think Judah is a little too manly with his broad vocabulary, massive volume, and tendency to announce that he is in charge (literally—“I in charge!”) to attract any funds this way, but I try to use the stroller just in case.  

We have had personal experience of the pro-child climate, though.  For instance, we stopped at a gas station, and I ran a sleepy Ariel in for a potty stop.  I could tell from the moment I asked the question that there was no public bathroom at this station, but the ladies just looked at each other and said, “Is it for the wee one?  Oh, well, let me get the key…” and then led me back through a bunch of doors and storage.  And of course, we exited with several sweet comments and verbal caresses for my little redhead, most of which I couldn’t quite catch. You can drive ten miles down the road and suddenly find the accents totally incomprehensible.  I don’t know why the differences arise so suddenly.

Another time, Judah was losing it after a “day off” in the city of Ayr.  We were trying to take a fun day with the team, but it turns out the Ayr is for shoppers and café goers, which Judah and Ariel are not, and so Judah was in a high chair causing a ruckus at a coffee shop.  A lovely lady just walked right over to him from her nearby seat, and began to talk to him her sweet Scottish talk, mixing some general pleasantries with nonsense with gentle scolding, and utterly holding his attention.  “Tha’s right,” she said.  “Sometimes et just takes a defferent voice, and ma funny accent, and so you must be good, wee lad…” She smiled at us once he was calm and went back to her seat.  I sometimes think that even if for no other reason, God’s got a special blessing for Scotland.