I like babies. I mean, they're cute, they smell nice, and they have really great smiles and infectious laughter. It's fun to play with them, watch them roll around or crawl or try to walk, stumbling, fumbling, and getting back up. They talk nonsense, throw up, and cry and giggle for no apparent reason sometimes. It's like watching little tiny drunks, except they're so much cuter and easier to pick up from the floor.
I've helped raised a number of them over the years. I know it's not all fun, I mean, they do need to be fed, burped, bathed, and put to sleep--that I don't mind so much. But they do need to be changed and they do cry a lot sometimes--that I do mind a little. And as much as I luv holding them, playing with them, or taking them out for a stroll, at the end of the day, I'm really glad that I don't have one. They're a lot of work and responsibility, and I'm not quite ready to change my life and be responsible for another human being--I'm barely responsible enough to take care of myself.
I was hanging out with a few friends, grilling some food and listening to some music. We were out in the back, under the shade, laughing, talking, drinking. It was mostly single adults; but a few others stopped by and brought their kids. One was a newborn baby, two months old, and everyone oohed and ahhed over him. A few people took turns holding the baby, admiring him as he just laid quietly. Of course, when I held the baby, the baby's older brother, a child about 4 years old asked me, "Where do babies come from?"
Oye! What do I say? Everyone was quiet, looking at me, waiting along with the 4 year old for the answer. I looked to the kid's parents, but they were smirking, clearly enjoying the befuddled look on my face. Hey, they're the parents. Shouldn't they be answering these questions? It was clear that no one else would step in and answer or at least distract this kid. So I repeated the same answer my mother told me, when I was that age and asked that question, "Babies come from the hospital."
The adults started giggling. Luckily, the kid seemed satisfied and wandered off. One of my friends said, "You just lied to that little boy!"
I replied, "Hey, I didn't lie to the kid. This baby did come from the hospital where he was born. Besides, it'd be wrong for me to tell that child any lies; that job belongs to his parents!"
After my mother told me that babies come from the hospital, every time we went to the hospital and passed by the nursery, I'd ask my Mom, "Can we get a baby today?"
To which she answered, "No, they're too expensive."
Once I asked, "Well, how much do they cost?"
She replied, "Five dollars."
"Wow," I said, "They are expensive!"
And when my sister came home with my newborn niece and I asked her, "How much did your baby cost?"
She answered, "Ten dollars."
And I said, "Wow! That's a really expensive baby!"
And people wonder why I have trust issues with my family.