I confessed that I'm officially a hippie just last week. It looks like living with me for nearly eight years has started to rub off on my hubs. No, he isn't creeped out by meat and dairy products. He isn't railing about the big business of childbirth and baby feeding. And he certainly isn't eschewing deodorant and wearing patchouli. But he totally supported me and my hippie tendencies this weekend.
We've resumed house-hunting and I always choose to wear our son when we walk through any property that is currently inhabited. My thoughts are that it is far easier to focus on the faults of the house if I don't have to divide my attention to keep an eye on him. Yes, I look for the problems in a house before I look for things that I might like about it - I waste less time that way.
Anyway, we popped in at a couple of open houses on Sunday; one we specifically planned to check out and one was spontaneous. We aren't particularly looking in the neighborhood of the second house because it's geographically less desirable to my way of thinking, but we had time and we spotted the sign so we stopped. I wore my son on my back in the Boba at the first house and I pulled out the pouch to let him ride on my hip at the second house. I never have a stroller on-hand (since he outgrew his stroller), but I always have at least two carrier options in my car.
The agent opened the door and looked surprised to see my son was cozied up on my hip in the pouch. She commented that the pouch was an ingenious way to tote around a tot and keep my hands free. She wasn't snarky or anything; she just seemed to think that it was pretty cool that I was wearing my son. I told her that I agreed that babywearing is a smart way to keep your kiddo safe and out of mischief.
My husband chimed in. . .
"This is normal in most parts of the world."
Awesome. Totally awesome.