Scratch that
I'm the first to admit that I know very little about babies, and further that I have even less desire to learn any more about them. But there was this absurdly cute one on the D train this morning, and she did this absurdly cute thing where she pulled up her little pantleg and scratched her ankle, in a near-perfect imitation of adult behavior.
At that moment I was struck with a revelation, or something.
One thing I do know about babies is that sometimes, they just fucking scream and scream and scream, even after you feed them, change their shitty diapers, rock them, burp them, whatever. (This is one of many reasons why I won't be crapping one out. Like, ever.) The kid's not sick or injured, nothing seems to be really wrong, and it just keeeeeeps on screeching it's little lungs out.
What if the kid has an itch?
Imagine having a heinous itch, lacking the ability to scratch it, or to tell anyone the problem? Meanwhile, someone keeps sticking a bottle or a tit in your mouth, bouncing you up and down, thumping on your back, and talking retardo coochie-coochie baby talk in your face. I think I'd scream my guts out too. That's torture. Poor, cute little bastards.
One more reason not to have 'em, if you ask me. Babies, that is. Itches I can handle.
At that moment I was struck with a revelation, or something.
One thing I do know about babies is that sometimes, they just fucking scream and scream and scream, even after you feed them, change their shitty diapers, rock them, burp them, whatever. (This is one of many reasons why I won't be crapping one out. Like, ever.) The kid's not sick or injured, nothing seems to be really wrong, and it just keeeeeeps on screeching it's little lungs out.
What if the kid has an itch?
Imagine having a heinous itch, lacking the ability to scratch it, or to tell anyone the problem? Meanwhile, someone keeps sticking a bottle or a tit in your mouth, bouncing you up and down, thumping on your back, and talking retardo coochie-coochie baby talk in your face. I think I'd scream my guts out too. That's torture. Poor, cute little bastards.
One more reason not to have 'em, if you ask me. Babies, that is. Itches I can handle.
posted by Helen the Felon at 11:59 AM
6 Comments:
Dada Tip I wish I knew before:
(Non Breeders Please Ignore)
What I learned about crying babies I learned the hard way. When you have tried all the usual ways to calm them down strip off all their clothes, if something is itching, or on wrong, it might just do the trick. One day, my daughter screamed for two hours, till I took off her shoe and noticed he sock toe was all twisted up in her shoe. Must have hurt like hell. I still makes me cringe knowing she was in pain for two hours when I could have just taken off her damn shoe.
Sorry, I have just never understood the desire to have a human-worm-baby.
And think of all the time it would take to figure out where the itch is. Scratch the ankle - still crying. Scratch the armpit - still crying. Scratch behind the ears - no change. More likely, just spray them down with Lanacane, dust them up with powder, wrap them in a tortilla and call them done.
I don't understand what the problem is with having someone sticking a tit in your mouth just to shut you up...
Wait...delete this comment.
Good points all :) everytime an old friend longed for a kid..I would make her watch mine for the whole weekend..it cured her every single time...
Ah, babies. Cute, chubby, smiley non-communicative babies! Love 'em. Love 'em. LOVE 'em.
But on the subway on my way home from work at 7AM if I see one I always think "I get to go home and go to sleep...Sweet, luscious sleep. responsible to no one."
And I smile. Broadly.
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