Gangsta Dad?

Today I was sitting at a stoplight when I noticed a guy crossing the crosswalk in front of me. He was maybe 21, black, and dressed in the "coolest of the cool" (to quote a famous lady) clothes -- big tennis shoes, long red short pant things with the crotch around the knees (he had to waddle just right), loose jacket, hair in corn rows, and red baseball cap. He was obviously trying hard to look the part of a hip gangsta. Now, there was nothing unusual about this sight, except that he was pushing a baby stroller! Draped over the stroller was a baby blanket with pastel colors on it. He glanced at me half defiantly as he swaggered by, as if to see if I would laugh at him. I didn't, at least not until he'd gone by. It was a mixture of funny, incongruous, and touching. I wondered how he got the job of pushing the child around. I presume it was his. Then I wondered if maybe there wasn't really a baby in there, but drugs that he was delivering. After all, I didn't see the baby. But that probably sounds like racial profiling or too many Texas Ranger shows in my head!