Last night we all went to the Boy Scout Pinewood Derby. As the half a dozen fathers finished getting the track ready, Evan decided he was thirsty. I am not shy about breastfeeding, but since Evan has decided it’s fun to spend his mealtime trying to remove my shirt and popping off the breast to laugh at the spraying milk, I felt uncomfortable frightening the poor Dads in the room. Since the custodians were buzzing all over the school, cleaning the day’s filth, I decided to pull out a sugar tit bottle of juice/water. Evan was quickly satisfied and I forgot the whole matter. An hour later I was in the packed cafeteria, helping Amy with her pizza. At that point I realized that Evan had been satisfied, but I had been neglected. Evan was strapped in the stroller so that Sarah could spoon him his cereal and I scurried back to the gym. Two steps out of the cafeteria, one of the Dads decided to be friendly and chat. I mashed my arms against my chest and tried to stay two steps ahead of him. The faster I walked, the faster he walked. I was embarrassed and rude all at the same time. Once I reached the gym I sat down with our pile of backpacks and turned toward the wall. I tried to look busy doing paperwork with one hand while I alternated between fluffing and rubbing my soaked shirt with my other hand. Apparently I didn’t look strange enough, because Doug decided this was a good time to introduce me to another Dad. After introducing me, Doug decided to stand there and chat with his friend until he announced that Evan needed a change. I annoyed Doug by just nodding in agreement that Evan needed a new diaper. Frustrated at my lack of action, Doug grunted that he would change Evan if I would hand him the equipment. I handed it to him and pulled the stroller in front of me as a shield. Eventually my shirt dried, but I am sure that one of the dozens of videocameras running all night has evidence. Someday they will pull those tapes out and their jaws will drop. “Why does that woman look like she’s entering a wet t-shirt contest?”