This is NOT Okay

She slid into the empty chair across from me at a two-person table in Panera, and quickly turned to face T Junior in his restaurant high chair.

"Hi, hon!" she said joyfully. "How are you? Are you having lunch? Is that a sandwich?"

T Junior smiled back at her. "Nunch."

The lady, who looked to be grandmother-age, laughed. "Yes, lunch!"

Who IS this woman?

She popped up and then down at the table next to us when her company arrived.

Okay. That was weird.

But T Junior thought it was great, so he kept looking at her, trying to get her attention. It worked.

"Touch!" he yelled.

The grandmother, who was only an arms-length away, held out her hand.

Oh my god.

T Junior teased her by sticking his saliva-covered fingers out and then pulling them away.

Thank god.

But the woman wouldn't stop playing with him.

"T Junior, eat your lunch, please. T Junior. T Junior," I said, tapping his plate in order to make it obvious we weren't here for play time. We had other things to do.

Then, to my absolute horror, T Junior held his sippy cup out for the woman to see, and she took it from him, cupped her hands around the wide plastic straw, and pretended to drink.

"Yum!"

She had her hands all over my son's cup and mouthpiece. I laughed quietly, nervously. Well, I guess he's done with his water. Has this lady never hear of the freaking swine flu?

Once T Junior got his sippy cup back, I snatched it from him and set it aside. "T Junior. T Junior." I hammered the tip of my index finger on the plastic dish. "Eat your sandwich."

I was desperately sending out the "leave us alone" cue: no eye contact. But this woman wasn't taking the hint. This was annoying. This was not the enjoyable lunch I envisioned earlier. I wanted to change tables, but felt it would be too rude. I wanted to pack up and leave, but felt it would be too difficult.

Thankfully, her table's pager went off. Her friend got up to retrieve their food. "I need some water," I heard her say. She got up and walked away.

Phew. A break.

Suddenly, T Junior shouted his word for water. "Abbah!"

I glanced behind me and saw the grandmother en route to her table with a small, clear plastic cup of H2O.

Before I could slap the cup out of her hand Before I could stick out my foot and trip her Before I could protest, the woman was offering my son a sip out of her drink! I nearly died.

I lunged forward. "Oh, nonononono!" I pushed T Junior back to get his lips off the rim of this crazy-a$$ lady's cup.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

The only reason I didn't faint on the spot was because it was obvious she had not yet had a sip from her water. Still. I was pissed.

What if she's sick? Do you really know when you are about to get a cold? And, hello? What if T Junior's sick? Does she just not care?

Not to mention, what she didn't know was that I completely disinfected the table and the wooden chair my son was sitting in with Clorox just 2o minutes before she so generously wiped her germy hands all over him and his sippy cup. She didn't know about T Junior's life-threatening infection (almost a year ago now) that I still am not entirely over.

I made the decision to abort lunch after that little stunt. Once we were in the safety of the minivan, I wiped my son down with Wet Ones.

Now, thinking back to this afternoon, I should have said something. But what?