So I had to run a couple of errands late this morning and stopped in at Whole Foods to grab some lunch. And some hummus. And a chocolate bar, because organic = healthy, right?

I’ve explained before that we writers in general and novelists in particular are notorious eavesdroppers, and I am no exception. Also, there are times when you just can’t help it, like when you come upon a conversation like I did when I got in the checkout line.

It was a conversation already in progress between a middle-aged lady who was loading her groceries onto the conveyor belt, and the elderly gentleman who was next in line behind her. The lady had an older toddler boy (I’m guessing 2 or 2 1/2) in her cart, and I can only assume based on what she said that she was his paternal grandmother.  I don’t know how long they’d been chatting, but I gather they’d maybe been talking about something related to the little guy’s eating habits, etc. The conversation sort of went in and out in terms of what I could hear/understand and not look too obviously like I was listening. Which of course, I was.

Anyway, as I came to stand in line behind the elderly guy, the woman was saying this: “…and I would know, of course, I’m with him more than his mother is.”

[Manda’s ears prick up and the little hairs on my arm stand on end.]

Elderly gentleman mumbles something inaudible in response.

She goes on, “see, he’s with me three days a week and his other grandmother one day a week and then… [I didn’t catch this part]. He has a baby brother, who’s only so many weeks old but I couldn’t handle them both. The baby screams a lot.” She gestures at the child, “But you’re a good big brother, aren’t you? A little jealous, but sweet. Yeah, I used to work with little kids all the time but I couldn’t do it anymore…”

She trailed off there and turned to talk to the cashier about something. The friendly old man began to make conversation with the little boy, who was facing him. “What’s your name?”

The little boy looked away for a second, obviously a little shy, and then said, very softly, “Jack.”

The woman turned back to him now, ruffled his hair and said, “Jackson. His name is Jackson. Well, he thinks his name is Jack, I mean he calls himself Jack. And his mother calls him Jack. But I call him Jackson, don’t I sweetie? Because that’s his name.” She gave the man a sort of knowing smile over the little boy’s head as she said this, and then (fortunately for everyone because I was totally biting my tongue off at this point) a cashier from a nearby line came to get me so I could check out faster. Or maybe she saw the bloodlust in my eyes and decided that a box of gluten-free cookies makes a fair projectile weapon in a pinch. They are pretty brick-like.

Okay, a basically innocent conversation I admit, but is it crazy that it crawled all over me? I left feeling defensive on behalf of Jack/Jackson and his poor mother, wherever she was. Working, I would assume… and maybe that’s what rankled this lady’s hide. Or maybe she cares for him for three days a week at no charge and feels put-upon and bitter about it. (I have no idea if she’s paid for her time or not). I mentioned that I thought this must be the paternal grandmother, not because she said so, but because it’s hard to imagine a mother would undermine her own daughter in front of her grandchild like this. In fairness, I should say that I don’t know that. She could be a maternal grandmother or maybe a step-grandmother or aunt or family friend or even a paid nanny. Does it really matter?

I don’t know the whole situation and I didn’t hear the entire conversation. But hearing what I did, my feeling as I left was that it’s not okay for a caregiver of any child to talk like this in front of the kid — what you say to your girlfriends over a glass of wine is your own business. I am super-sensitive about this kind of thing, especially when it involves the feelings of a little person. But am I being hypersensitive in this case? What if it’s true that this woman really is with the kid more than his mom? Does that make it okay for her to say so in front of him? Is she just telling the truth? I’m trying to remember that I came to this conversation bringing all my working mom baggage with me, so maybe I’m misreading or projecting my own mommy guilt…

Anyone have thoughts on this? Working moms, relatives who care for young kids, preschool teachers…? Do you think I’m putting too much weight on a passing conversation, or should Jack/Jackson’s mommy re-think her child care situation?

Bring on the comments!

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I’m M.J. (Manda) Pullen, an author and mom in the Atlanta, Georgia area. I blog about writing, publishing, motherhood, health, psychology and whatever else strikes me in the moment.

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My current roster of books includes The Marriage Pact series, a trilogy of funny, semi-realistic Contemporary Romance/Women’s Fiction novels. You can find them for all eBook formats and in paperback here.

MJ Pullen

M.J. Pullen is a distracted writer and the mom of two boys in Roswell, Georgia, where she is absolutely late for something important right now. Her books include quirky romantic comedies and playful women's fiction. She blogs erratically with writing advice, random observations, and reflections on raising very loud kids and dogs. Join her Distracted Readers newsletter list for updates, free content, giveaways and more.