One Egg Shy

The musings of Chris. Writer, humanitarian, hero.

Sunday, April 02, 2006

No Baby

This weekend I visited two college friends of mine who got married in 2004. They had a baby in October, but I hadn’t seen it until yesterday. In the included picture, you will see something revolutionary: the first time I’ve ever held a baby. How did I make it until 23 without ever holding a baby? I’m not sure, actually.

The closest I’ve ever come to having a kid was when an ex-girlfriend and I had the brilliant plan to take her little cousin Becky to the beach with us. This sounded good to me, as I imagined the three of us holding hands and running in a slow-motion circle as some upbeat song blared. We drove to Delaware to pick her up and then to Ocean City, which was about a two hour trip. Luckily Becky was an aspiring comedian in the back seat, although she didn't quite have the whole set-up/punchline concept down. Instead, her jokes followed a simple pattern. "When is a (Blank A) not a (Blank A)? When it's a (Blank B)!" For example, she would look around her, see a car and a Burger King, and come up with a joke. "When is a car not a car?!" she'd ask. "When it's a BURGER KING!" This was funny at first, but like all absurd things, by the fifth time I wanted a lobotomy.

When we actually reached the beach, I tried to get them to spin with me, but Becky couldn't quite do it in slow-motion. Five minutes into our time at the beach, after she had been lathered in sun lotion, baby powder and a lime marinade, she gave the first indication of impending doom, asking "Where's Mommy?" "You'll see her in a couple of hours," I responded. I had forgotten that to little kids, time is this kinda funny concept that only applies in terms of punishments or expectations.

Kids don't understand the whole concept of cause and effect very well. When a child wants ice cream, we are left with a sticky baby. When a child wants to ride the ferris wheel, we have a child covered in vomit. When a child wants a Faberge egg, we are left with a second mortgage. They don't understand that sometimes when adults say no, it's for the greater good, and not because we get off on some kid's tears. You have to be firm and put your foot down, no matter how much they wail. Don't give in.

Another thing I realized about children is that you have to watch them like all the time. If you turn your head for one second to try to read what that 14-year-old's shorts say on her ass, your kid will have found her way onto a jet ski and be half way to Aruba. I used to be totally against those kid leashes, but maybe they aren't such a bad idea.

When is a baby not a baby? When she's a dirty Red! Becky apparently was a Communist, which I didn't realize before this trip. Between ice cream cones and Faberge eggs, she wandered among some other kids who were building a sand castle. She wanted to help them, but the kids had a shitty diaper club going and wouldn't admit her. She got upset and decided to take one of their shovels and start her own castle. Why wouldn't she? To her, this was not any individual's shovel, but the shovel of the proletariat, meant to be shared among all of society in a Marxist bliss. She got pissed when we had to explain capitalism to her and return the soggy bottom kid's stupid shovel. We managed to cheer her up later though when we bought her a plastic hammer and sickle.

After we finally got her home, I swore off kids for at least five years. The moral of this story is, don't have unprotected sex until you're ready. And in payment for this advice, can anyone lend me a couple bucks towards that mortgage?


  • At 2:48 PM, Blogger Angela in Europe said…

    I don't usually hold kids either. They have this uncanny ability to start screaming as soon as I touch them. Then people look at me oddly and say, "You know, babies have an instinct as to which people are good and which ones are bad." So because babies don't like me, I am bad? Dogs like me and I like dogs.


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