I don’t wanna birth my own baby, but I’m not opposed to someday being a mom. However, at the moment, I have NO interest in being a mom, and yet still greatly enjoy screwing with my friends’ kids who are passing through major developmental milestones, as they are learning how to process all kinds of stuff and thus are SUPER easily and strangely entertained.
Take for instance one of my all-time FAVORITE babies, Monkey*. Here’s Monkey:
If you are thinking to yourself “my, that baby sure does look HAPPY!” you are CORRECT! He may be the happiest baby I’ve ever encountered. If you are thinking “does he have rib sauce on his face??” you are ALSO correct! Monkey LOVES ribs and gnawed on a few rib bonez during dinner (CHILL OUT, WHISTLE BLOWERS. AIN’T YO BABY, AIN’T YO RULEZ). But this happyhappyjoyjoy face is the direct result of the fact that he loves EVERYTHING that is in the world – and he’d just, I dunno… probably looked around and got excited about some lint. He’s a one-man all-discovery, all-the-time JOY MACHINE!!! If you’re thinking “Oh, so what you’re saying is that he’s a baby,” yeah. Yeah he is. But I can almost guarantee you that he is a “Top 1% Best Babies That Have Ever Lived” baby. [Seriously, if you say one mean thing to/about that baby and mean it, I will probably kill you. I love that baby.]
As he is a happy and curious baby, I must fuck with him and try to derail – I prefer “enrich” – his learning because I feel it is my calling in life (when I’m around babies. When I’m not around babies, my calling feels more like competitive eater.) So today, I taught Monkey a game called “put stuff on the baby and see what happens.” First up was a kleenex. Monkey pretty much KNOWS he hates kleenexes because they are STOP MOVING FOR A SECOND BABY WHILE I DON’T PUT A BOOB IN YOUR MOUTH OR OTHERWISE ADD FUN TO YOUR LIFE mechanisms. But I didn’t try to wipe Monkey’s nose, I put the kleenex on his head. Yep. Why? Because I wouldn’t FEED him a kleenex – that’d be CRAZY! You guys, IT BLEW HIS FUCKING BABY MIIIIIIND!!!! Which, of course, was awesome and hilarious for me because I got to sit there watching and listening to him laugh and squeal with delight, which makes me laugh – both with him and at him, like “baby, IT’S JUST A FUCKING KLEENEX!!! LOOK HOW EASY THIS IS!!! THIS IS AWESOME!!!!”
Sometimes when I hear people bitch about how much baby toys cost, I just want to call them out for being boring. Babies don’t CARE. They just want STUFF. They especially want whatever you don’t want them to have, so if the issue is that your baby “needs” expensive toys, perhaps it’d be best to start with the man in the mirror before you place that order on Amazon.
After the success of the kleenex experiment, I moved on to a salad bowl (OR IS IT A DRUM?? It’s whatever Monkey wants it to be, Captain Pigeonhole! DON’T CAGE THIS MONKEY!) The weight of the bowl made it a much less tenable chapeau alternative than the kleenex, but for Monkey, just knowing it could ALSO go on his head AS WELL AS being a drum made it a “double the fun” toy. Monkey was pleased and laughed gah gah gah all the way home. And by home, I mean to THE BOOB.
*Again, a nickname. I don’t have friends that would ACTUALLY name their kid “Monkey.” THAT’D be stupid.