So is this a gender bias or motherly instincts? I am positive this is an issue of my motherly instincts being raised like a four alarm fire but for the sake of argument, I will pose the question.

Women are constantly stopping to look at, ogle, and praise my children, especially the baby. She has the bluest eyes and longest lashes anyone has ever seen it seems. I am used to them but they have quite the effect on some people. I have grandparents who stop and get close but they also exude a sort of longing that makes me feel it is somehow my duty to indulge them. After all it isn’t much to me as long as they don’t scare my kids.

Today at the checkout line at the local grocery store was not the same.

The man, who looked like a darker, younger version of Paul Simon if he had a full head of hair, got way too close. So close that I am still rattled. Scared even and I can’t exactly put my finger on why. Am I more upset by his actions, or my reaction?

The exchange was simple and went like this:

I am at the do-it-yourself- express check out, my oldest handing me items from the cart for me to scan, putting them in the bag, and noticing that this guy is standing too close to my cart and baby girl. He doesn’t reach out to her but looks poised to do just that.

I make eye contact and wonder how rude it will be if I move the cart all the way over to the other side of me.

“How old are your kids?” he asks.

I am hoping he will add that he has kids himself which is usually what comes next with the men, most of them have enough sense to let me know they have a reason for asking. This man made no attempt to put me at ease so that made it worse.

I am feeling at this point flustered and scared and keep telling myself I am overreacting. The feelings came on so suddenly. Twenty seconds ago I was blissfully unaware, hurried and annoyed that my daughter has to go potty when we just went at a friend’s house. No one around us seems to be looking at him strangely. I look to the woman standing near him to see if she is with him and I can’t tell.

“Um, one year and four.” I say, hearing the irritation in my voice.

I am equally pissed at myself for telling him and at him for asking. Does he not get that single men generally don’t inquire about women’s children so directly? Or maybe it’s just me; the coffee is catching up to me as well. Things are not moving fast enough.

How do I want to pay? Cash, ATM/Debit, or  Credit card. There are so many options and I can’t move forward unless I pick one. I can’t watch my kids, this guy, and answer the screen at the same time. I might miss something important. Every time I try to focus on the screen I see him edge closer to my cart.

I move it a few feet away from him.

“I just like to make conversation at times like this,” he says. “Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asks.

His stare was direct, his eyes were black and it felt like a challenge. The voice was automated, like a machine. The rhythm was not right, and he stood stock still like he wasn’t sure what to do next.

When I am irritable and afraid, my emotional response is to put a lock down on my reactions. I know I am not thinking clearly so put the priority on not doing something I will regret. I try to focus on the most important part of the exchange. My kids and getting out of there. Quickly.

 “No," I replied, "I am just in a hurry," and I motioned to the screen.

He backed up and nodded.

Then I felt bad. This is the part that makes me mad. The guy was being weird and creepy and he was old enough to know better.  Why do I feel like I have to apologize for my reaction?

On my way out I felt compelled to say, “Have a nice day.”

Now I wish I had made a bigger deal. Then I could be writing about how I freaked out on some guy at the store and wonder what’s wrong with me.

There is only one reason this guy did what he did, creeping toward my kids, and I feel the need to say, “Have a nice day.” Lovely. At least Emily Post wouldn’t be disappointed.

I wish I had done a real impression of the mama bear and raised my arms up as high as I could and screamed at him: “Get away from my kids you pervert!” Possibly it would have turned out that he just lost his whole family in a plane crash and is struggling to get through each day, drawn toward the scenes of familial life he will never have again.

My father is old goofy and has a thing for strangers; large men, young girls, he doesn’t care. He’ll lock eyes with them, grin, and walk over and hug them like they’re old friends. It freaks people out. It freaks me out. Most of them are very accommodating, polite or at least civil as they pry themselves away from him. There is an innocence that my father has when he does this that I did not see in this man’s dark eyes.

The exchange stuck with me all day, I even watched my rearview mirror on the way out of the parking lot in case he decided to follow us. I thought about that guy in Idaho and how random things can be.

Am I overreacting?