I'm the Captain of this elevator.

A few minutes ago I had to go downstairs to collect a package from the mail carrier. I took the elevator back up, something I rarely do (it's amazing how unappealing stairs are when there is this much pressure on your pubic bone). Already in the car were a small boy (age 4 or 5 I'd guess) and his father.

When I got on, the boy said, "You're not my friend," and moved closer to his dad. I was quite struck by this, because it was absolutely true. I am not his friend. He's never seen me before. Plus, when I stepped on I momentarily stepped between them.

His dad said, "She's got a baby in there," and the boy became interested. "Open it!" he demanded, pointing to my USPS Priority Mail box.

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"Not in here," I told him. "In here," pointing to my belly.

"Open it!" he again demanded, this time moving forward and lifting my shirt.

"Not for three more weeks," I informed him. "At least."

As we parted ways on the third floor I heard his father promising him that I'd show him the baby when I got it out.