Ick. I could just puke. I am so disappointed in myself.
I just did one those nauseating things that certain parents do. Not quite as bad as the fountain hair-do on girls, or the headband, or the shoes that squeak, but equally cringe-worthy.
“Your nephew is very excited to meet you today”
I typed that. To my brother. On Facebook. Oh so public, this transgression.
Did my three and a half month old infant ask me to include that note to his uncle, to say a heloooooo, to pass on his greetings and salulations? No! and why? Because he’s too busy rehydrating his cradle with his healthy flow of bubbly drool as he naps. And if he is dreaming, it is most probably not about how remarkable and memorable ‘twill be to enfin meet with his aunt and uncle.
Parents who speak on behalf of their babies provide birth control of a different sort. Because it is not so much that some non-parents take issue with the baby part of the equation, ie birth. But the notion that one could become so, well, lame, really, makes you double up the condoms and take refuge in pets, nieces and nephews.
Ugh.
So I offered this little token up in atonement:
“Crap. I just spoke for my baby. I hate it when parents do that. Crap. I have become one of them”
And, of course someone “liked” it. My buddy. He’s a freaking dad. Of course.
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