I got Dark Roasted

I don't know if it's because Juliette is exceptionally cute (obviously) or if this stuff happens to everyone, but this happened to me the other day. I took the kids to Tim Hortons for breakfast one Saturday morning, because only the best for my kids! Juliette is a little over 1 1/2 so she pretty much never sits still. So she's kind of dancing around being cute as hell. This man, probably in his late 50's early 60's (in other word, HOT) is smiling at her as he's approaching and she's smiling back. He talks in a super weird baby voice to her for a few minutes asking her questions, which I clearly have to answer. This, in itself is weird enough. Some salty dog is pretending to hold a conversation with a toddler who I then have to answer. And he refuses to drop the baby voice. You know what, I'm going to start doing this to adults. I'm going to go up to some 30-something couple and start coo-ing at how cute the man is and then ask the woman how old he is, what his name is and if he's a good boy. Anyhow, this is happening and then out of nowhere he looks at me, very seriously, and says, "Kids are precious." "Oh aren't they?" I reply whilst chomping into a dirty Tim Hortons breakfast sandwich. "My wife and I LOVE kids. Unfortunately we couldn't have any." Ah shit, I think. Here we go. "Have you tried the dark roast?" I ask, "In my mind I feel like it tastes better but it's probably just the same coffee." "Yes, my wife is baron." "Your wife's a baron? I think you meant baroness, good sir." I didn't really say that. I wish. I'm not saying that this is a funny or light matter, not being able to have kids, I mean. I'm not THAT much of an a-hole. The funny part of this is that a Captain Highligner look-a-like just told me his infertility problems within, no kidding, 35 seconds of meeting me. How am I supposed to respond to that? I don't know if you can tell by the tone of this blog, but I am not a serious person so when I stranger tells me something incredibly personal and serious, I start to sweat and when I start to sweat things start smelling a bit like bacon. So I just do one of those sympathetic nods and "hmmmmmm's," while pretty much eating the breakfast sandwich in two bites. Dear Tim Hortons: make those things bigger. So anyhow, he looks at the ground for a second and I'm thinking, shit, he's going to cry. Which I am definitely not prepared to deal with. But he doesn't. Thank eff. Instead He comes close to me, puts his hand on my shoulder, which I slowly gazed towards and while I'm staring at his hand on my shoulder he tells me to enjoy every moment with these kids. I seriously felt like he was going to tell me to go and say 4 hail mary's and 3 our fathers. I still have weird catholic confession throw back moments. Anyhow, at this point Juliette had gotten a timbit from somewhere - I seriously have no idea where it came from, and I said "Amen" to the stranger and off he went. He was just being friendly and thought the kids were cute, but seriously Eff off weirdo. I'm just trying to quietly give my kids diabetes here.