Am I really a monster?

Doobie (Chief Eating Officer), Jenn (Events Organizer), Sarah (Wine Sommelier) and I (Membership Consultant) were sitting at an outdoor table in a little Mexican restaurant in the West Village, one of our Restaurant Club events.

A young couple strolled by, pushing along a happily gurgling baby in a pram. The baby was contentedly self-entertained, smiling and waving and gurgling and drooling as babies are wont to do. What an adorable little critter, I thought to myself, feeling the first nascent tugs of maternal instinct. Just then, the baby fixed me with its heart-melting eyes.

I swear to you, it looked at me. All the other people around, and it chose me upon whom to bestow its beatific smile.

Omg it chose me, I thought. Me. All these other bods around, and it still chose to smile at ME. Must be that babies just naturally love me! I couldn't help but feel a welling of pride.

Then I did that horrible thing that all adults are reduced to when faced with a smiling baby. I put on that ridiculous expression on my face, somewhere between a look of wide-eyed surprise and a frighteningly toothy grin. Personally, I thought I looked dead cute. Just what the doctor ordered for that little golden child. I thought. Personally.

But suddenly, with no further instigation whatsoever, the baby burst out crying. Not the I'm-hungry-give-me-baby-goonk kind of crying. Not the oh-dear-I-just-pooped-myself kind of crying. Oh no.

This was a terrified shrieking Mum-I've-seen-a-monster kind of bawling. With a finger pointed right at me. Shrieking screeching screaming squawking.

I was horrified (the baby continued pointing at my face and screaming bloody murder).
The parents looked stricken. "I'm so sorry," the mum mouthed at me. (The screaming continued unabated. How do babies have such lung capacity anyway? They'd make great divers.)
I glanced over at Doobie, she was doubled up in laughter (wait till this happens to her one day!).

The parents hastily wheeled the pram down the block (the baby continued to peep round the corner, and point at me and wail).

WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY FACE?!!!

Maternal instincts be damned.