Momma Mondays - Stranger Danger!

For the past 8.5 months, I've become a magnet for strangers. Once they see my baby, they are drawn to me. Sometimes it looks as if they try to fight it, but the infant magnetism is so great that they cannot. It is a force beyond their control. They must see his face, must work for a smile, must try to grab tiny fingers or toes, must take just a quick peek, must speak to him in high pitched tones, and must - MUST - give me advice.

I'm not a know-it-all. I will go on record as saying that there is much I do not know. For this reason, I make lists of questions for my pediatrician. Yes questions, for my child's DOCTOR. However, I've found that many a random person on the subway or the street are so brilliant and so well educated in children's health that they cannot keep themselves from imparting their wisdom on me. I am nothing but the child's mother, a person who must seem to the outside world as completely incapable of providing adequate care to this sweet baby whom they have encountered.

Were it not for the interference of strangers, would Knox:

- be comfortable?
Knox is 6 weeks old and cuddled up against my chest in the baby carrier. His face rests against me so that he can smell the milk he is now hungry for. It's been two hours since he last ate. This must be torture for him, and as he starts to fuss, then cry, I know that it is indeed. But we are only two stops away from our neighborhood. I rock, I shush, I stroke his small head, I give him a pacifier and hope for the best. I stand up and pace the aisle. We are almost home, I keep whispering.
"It's his leg," a woman says to me, grabbing my elbow and then pointing at him. "His leg is hurting him," she says again, gruffly, as if I should be sent to child services. With a disapproving glare, she exits the train and I stare, mouth agape.
I look down at my child's leg, these sweet little legs that have been curled up in my womb for the last ten months, and are now tucked neatly against my belly. They are flexible and small; positioned in the exact same way they always are. But because my baby is crying and this type of stretch seems impossible to adults, a complete stranger has the gumption to solve what must have seemed to be the obvious problem.

-be developing?
Knox is a laid back guy. He didn't roll over consistently til about a month ago, around the same time he started sitting up well on his own. He doesn't crawl, nor try to. Does not pull up, attempt walking, wave, clap, or eat finger foods. He takes things at his own pace and cannot be rushed.
"Oh, he's 8 months old and not crawling?"
"He doesn't like Cheerios?"
"You should be feeding him meat, anything from your plate."
"She started walking at his age."
"Really? Nothing? But he's so big!"
These comments are not innocent. They are loaded. They are followed by suggestions for my husband and me to try with the baby at home. Obviously, we are not spending enough time with our child, not coaching him enough, not holding him up, not feeding him enough solid food, not making it happen. Our thoughts are that he has his whole life to sit, crawl, eat, walk, etc. What's the rush? 
I just smile and say, "Oh, but look how well he drools!" 
Yep. They want to take my baby away.

-be alive?
Knox is 6 months old and we are navigating post-blizzard streets to go to Manhattan. The wind is fierce, so I have put the clear plastic rain/wind guard over his stroller. This thing keeps him so warm that he doesn't even need a coat. He can see where he's going, can smile at his many admirers, and dodge any harsh elements or dangers. I call it the Pope mobile.
While Knox and I are on the train, I usually pull the plastic cover up a little to give him some fresh air. Now this cover has loads of holes in it and also doesn't velcro all around, so it's totally safe and breathable; but I always lift it a tad on the train anyway so I can reach him easily if he loses a paci or something. 
As we near our stop, an older woman approaches with her finger pointed at me. "You take that thing off and get him out of the stroller as soon as you get home!" she demands. Again, I am so amazed that she thought I would need this advice that I can only stare (and almost miss our stop). Were it not for her, Knox might still be in his stroller right at this moment, two and a half months later.

Advice is great - when asked for. I honestly think that most people mean well. My theory is that they are so unconsciously drawn to the child that once they are near to him, they realize that they are in also near to me. Problem is, they came toward the baby without preparing something to say to the momma, which leads to awkward and sometimes harsher-than-meant comments.

What's your opinion? Have any crazy stories about stranger danger?