Ma Will Handle It

Ma Kettle is my idol. Fictional character that she is,

she can do anything. If, for instance, Ma Kettle had a baby in today’s world, she would handle the situation as mater-of-factly as she handles everything else. No sixty-pound car seats for her.. No riding the baby in the back seat all alone, where she couldn’t reach it. Ma Kettle would not be worrying about air bags, or how to fit baby and groceries in the same shopping cart.

Ma Kettle would have one of those infant sleeping bags that zip across the
bottom and side, leaving the top open. Ma would drop the infant in and,
holding the bag by the top like a bag of apples, mosey on out to the car,
where she would place baby on the front floor, with the bag opening toward
her for easy access. Should baby need something en route, Ma kettle would
take it right in stride. She would pluck up the bag, dump the baby on the
seat beside her, or in her lap, whichever the situation indicated. When she
arrived at her destination and had everything quieted down, she would re-bag
the baby and go on as planned.

When the baby was older, Ma Kettle would teach it to stay on the front floor. From that spot, Ma could still reach it in case it needed attention, and at the same time, baby would be safe from the passenger-side airbag, should it deploy. Ma would have a pocketknife. If the airbag ever deployed, Ma would slice it open and punch it down. Ma Kettle would take the children to a fast-food place once in awhile. When she saw those baby chairs they have these days, she would let the baby loose to crawl around on the floor. Of course, Ma would always know exactly where baby was, and would warn the other customers to keep an eye out for it, but the restaurant employees would object anyway. "Well, sure," Ma would say, very hearty. "I couldn’t find a high chair, is all. Where do ya keep ‘em?"

Of course, the restaurant personnel would show her those baby chairs they
have. But Ma Kettle would not be impressed.

"That ain’t no high chair," she would say, and would laugh, ha ha. "A high
chair’s got a tray," she’d say. "It gives the baby a place of its own,
because babies ain’t civilized yet."

"Well, you’ll have to do something," the restaurant personnel would say. "We
can’t have babies crawling around like that. They could get hurt."

"Ya mean babies ain’t welcome here?" Ma would say.

"Certainly they are," the personnel would reply. "You just can’t let them
crawl around on the floor."

"Well, get me a high chair, then," Ma would say.

"This is a high chair," personnel would say, pointing again

to those baby chairs they have.

"No it ain’t," Ma would say again. "Now, you listen here,

"she’d say, "if I cooked my own supper at home, there

wouldn’t be no baby throwin’ the whole family’s food

on the floor, and I ain’t gonna pay for no meal my family

can’t enjoy."

Ma Kettle would never raise her voice, but she wouldn’t back down, either.
Personnel would offer to give Ma and her family a free meal, but Ma would
not find that satisfactory, because the food would be cold by the time they
got home.

"Watch out for the baby," Ma would say many many times, while she and her
family were present in the restaurant. Nobody would bring in the police, and
if they did, Ma would certainly not be arrested for child neglect and
endangerment, like you or I would, because she is a fictional character, and
can get away with a lot more.

And suppose personnel complained that baby was disturbing other customers.
What would Ma say?

"Well, sure, I understand. Get me a high chair."

My money says, somebody would go home and get one. But of course, that’s
fiction. In real life, you have to bring your own, because Ma’s right;
babies ain’t civilized yet.