What You Need to Know About Your Creepy Baby

A co-worker of mine is getting ready to welcome his first born child into the world and I couldn't be happier knowing for almost certain that this child is not mine. Not that I have a particular qualm with having children, for as babies depend on adults, many adults depend on babies. I dare say the photograph industry thrives on babies, and the picture frame industry likely gets a bit of a boost as well, because nothing tickles a parent more than dressing anything under 20 pounds like a pumpkin and parading the evidence around the office.

"Wow!" I say, when presented with a picture of a baby dressed up as a piece of fruit. "I would certainly enjoy baking her into a little pie!" This results in uncertain glances as the parent gently removes the smudged picture (I do not hold photographs properly) from the tight grip of my fingers and takes a few uncertain steps back, trying to ascertain whether I am paying the tyke a compliment or stating ulterior motives. This is obviously a silly statement, as you would need many more than one baby to make a whole pie.

Although I may sound uncaring* about children I assure you it is in loving jest. Actually I am quite worried for them. I have been reading many self-help books lately and have noticed that there are absolutely no books at all to assist the baby in personal growth and development. Tragedy! For without the guiding words of self help guru's how will our little citizens develop the necessary confidence to guide them through the tumultuous ages 0-3 ? They grow at an alarming rate, which can't be good for body image. How would you feel if by next week your onesy was already feeling a little snug? Less than splendid, I'd imagine, and this is why we need to instill a certain level of self belief in them. This way, when passers by mutter things like "Look at that babies adorable smile yet enormous, melon shaped head." The baby does not immediately take to wearing silly hats in a vain attempt to mislead the public. Parents always seem to enjoy when people tell them the result of a drunken Fourth of July looks exactly like them. Well I certainly hope not! Babies are totally disproportioned. How they're able to hold that giant head up on that chubby little neck is a mystery to me like the pyramids. There is plenty of evidence, yet it's still a marvel.

Infant fashion is another facet of this glittering baby train wreck that fascinates me. For example, when you see a fresh baby boy he is always dressed in blue attire. Yet it is totally acceptable for girls to wear pink OR blue. This is because baby boys don't have the confidence necessary to pull off a pink shirt. Yet we all know that grown men who have the chutzpah to pull off pink harbor secret bi-sexual desires are totally confident in their personal identities and nothing their fathers, friends, and sniggering strangers can do or say to shake that belief!

I think we can all agree on one truth. In this time and age, when considering the future well being of the generations to come, we must focus on providing the most important tools to prepare (or at least not horribly retard) our (your) children. Namely really, really cool toys. Ah what a better man I would be had I been provided with the appropriate utensils to stimulate my mind. You see, dear reader, I am the youngest of three and the only boy in a middle class family. My older sisters are wonderful and successful. I am proud of them and I love them with all my heart. I could go on all day about how blessed I am to have these two as my big sisters. With that being said let's you and I focus on the negative. Anyone with older siblings knows that the youngest tends to inherit things. At this point in my life inheriting things from them works out in my favor** but when I was young this was not the case. I had every G.I. Joe a boy could desire, yet I was never quite able to obtain a G.I. Joe action vehicle. My only two options for action figure mobilization were my sisters My Little Ponies or their pink Barbie convertible. Seeing as how Joe's don't ride ponies (they just don't), I was forced to utilize the pink convertible. I had the only gay G.I. Joes on the block. I wouldn't be surprised if, on the way to the battle, my Joes would pull over into some out of the way rest area to blow other G.I. Joes. When every other kids G.I. Joes went off to battle mine stayed back and redecorated the base. "We'll bring up the rear!" they would say, the perverts. I didn't even know what that meant until years later. Sure, I could have pretended they had some magical flying ability, but everyone knows a flying G.I. Joe is total bullshit. Thank God I didn't use the horses, who knows what may have happened in the toy box after dark. Needless to say it's too late for me, I'm already scarred, but you can prevent this from happening to your loved one's by buying them really cool toys.

Just don't think by spoiling them it makes it acceptable to dress them a vegetable. There should be laws.

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*or indifferent, bothered, irritated, annoyed with/by, or occasionally flat out spiteful

**thanks for the free couch and coffee table, love you sisters