Table manners

Today at lunch I burped so loudly and disgustingly that it made Lumpy cry.

I am so very, very proud of myself. As a mother, and as a person.

Mummy stalking

I need your help, dear readers. On a question of etiquette, no less.

Me and the Lumpy went to the supermarket today. I've always enjoyed supermarket shopping, because I like spending money and I like food, so it's a win win in my eyes. Adding a Lumpy into the mix just adds to the fun, particularly now he's sitting up in the proper big boy seat in the trolley, as it allows him to pull stuff off the shelves while simultaneously reaching back into the trolley to mangle what's already in there. I tend to get a bit distracted by this and end up reeling around the store and crashing into innocent bystanders. At one point we almost overturned another mum and her baby - a smiley little girl who looked a couple of months younger than Lumpy. I yelped an apology before the kamikaze trolley dragged me towards the chocolate section (I had no control of it, honest).

When we got to the checkout, the same mum and baby were in at the till beside us. The babies clocked one another immediately and started flirting, big styleee. They were sqeeeeeeeeeing, and bouncing, and flapping, and virtually proposing marriage on the spot. So extreme was their reaction that the checkout ladies and other customers even started commenting. Sadly, this blossoming relationship had to end before Lumpy had a chance to ask his new girlfriend out to dinner, as the other mum finished paying, told her baby to say goodbye (Lumpy waved on the command of 'wave': she was suitably awed and amazed at his amazingness), and headed off. We followed shortly after, once I had finished crushing my eggs and avocados at the bottom of the bags under my potatoes and cans, packing genius that I am. As we walked out, Lumpy kept looking over his shoulder, wondering where his new girlfriend had gone.

And this is where it all gets a bit stalky.

As I finished loading up and wrangling Lumpy into his carseat, I noticed that the other mum was getting into her car just a few down the row from us. We pulled out just after her, and ended up following her out. Slightly bizarrely, we kept taking the same turns, until she eventually went through some traffic lights that were changing and escaped me (I considered just jumping the red in a squeal of tyres, but thought that might frighten the poor woman. If she wasn't already terrified enough by the deranged loon in the beaten up Ford Escort who'd been tailing her since she left Tescos).

And then, about 100 metres from out house, I saw her. She was parked on a narrow bit of road right outside a house, unloading her car in a slightly frenzied fashion. I considered stopping and yelling inanely at her through the car window, but managed to restrain myself, and continued on round the corner to our house.

But then I thought... Now I know where her house is. We're virtually neighbours (sort of. ish. Run with me here). Our babies seemed to really, really like each other.

So what I'm wondering is, would it be unspeakably weird and stalkerish to put a note through her door, explaining how I followed her home (ok, maybe not presenting it in that light...), and asking if she'd like to get the babies together at some point to continue their gurgling romance?

That would be odd and disturbing, and I really shouldn't do it, right?

Or would it be a friendly and socially acceptable thing to do? After all, those babies really hit it off. This may be Lumpy's future wife we're talking about? Who am I to deny my son his only chance of happiness?

I honestly have no idea on this one. Lumpy has not only sucked out my brain, he's taken my sense of the appropriate as well. Naked cartwheeling in the restaurant at work, anyone? Yes?

So what, dear, helpful, wise readers, should I do? Do tell, please.