Living in the world’s cutest neighborhood is wonderful, but it is not without its side effects. For instance, one might develop an overly idealistic, bordering on naive world outlook. I have seen this happen first hand. While walking to the subway, the following conversation occurred between a teenaged boy and his father:
Father: You’re going to blow all of your savings to take her to Spain?? And for what? You’ve known her for three months! You don’t even have a pot to shit in!
Boy: For what? For what? FOR LOVE!!!
Even now, as I’m writing this and trying to mock him, I find myself thinking that these crazy kids just might make it work… Even if they are going to be starting their relationship off homeless, in a foreign country, and unable to legally smoke cigarettes.
DO YOU SEE WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME??? I’M TWO SHAKES AWAY FROM BECOMING A GODDAMN ROMANTIC!
And this isn’t the only issue. Living where we live, we are constantly faced with adorable children. Wearing adorable clothes. And RAIN BOOTS! And vests! And sometimes they have tiny little pairs of glasses on their faces!
I know. This sounds magical and happy and not at all like a negative. I see where you’re coming from. I too was under that impression at first.
See, being a dog lover, I am irreversibly programmed to RUN not walk, to greet the nearest cute thing. It’s no different for babies. I see one, and there is a visceral reaction in me and before I know it I’m letting the kid sniff my hand and then patting it on the head. I can’t help it.
In a more innocent time, my run-ins with babies were few and far between. This allowed me to smile, make faces, high-five the baby and then move on with my life. Now, because of the sheer abundance of close encounters of the baby kind, I can’t shake them! I’m ALWAYS thinking about babies.
Allow me to explain. I’m not baby crazy, per se. This isn’t the start of the next pregnancy pact or anything. It’s just that when you are constantly looking at these hip families with their sweet children with names like Charlie (AWWWW), it can really fuck with you.
It’s gotten bad enough that Sarah and I will see a particularly cute kid, and immediately start hatching plans to steal them and raise them as our own. Not forever, of course, just until they start being a handful and we’re ready to return them to their biological parents. It’s even worse when we see a kid who has already learned crucial social cues. I nearly had to restrain Sarah when we saw a child dutifully reach up and grab his father’s hand before stepping onto the street, without any prompting. “THAT WILL SAVE ME SO MUCH TIME!!!” she exclaimed.
Of course, we’re not unreasonable. We’ll employ the campfire rule with all stolen children: return them better than we found them. We figure it shouldn’t be too difficult… Sarah can coach them into a diverse vocabulary that will be sure to impress their teachers, and I will teach them to sing and dance. Or put makeup on without a mirror. Or something.
Naturally, this is only until Sarah and I branch out from our frightfully co-dependent relationship and enter into adult relationships that could, potentially, maybe about a million years down the road, lead to actual babies that we will keep even when they stop being adorable and start being real people.
And should the lucky gents who will make up the other half of said adult relationships be so blessed as to take our hands in marriage, I hope they are ready to recreate this video. Frame by frame.
NOTE: You are going to want to turn off the following video after about 12 seconds. At :25, you’re REALLY going to want to turn it off. I implore you to fight your instincts and see it through. You will not regret it. Trust.