Babies, friend-stealing egomaniacs

Babies are cute, yes, and they are our future, correct.  

Or so they would have you believe.

A baby’s hidden agenda isn’t so precious.  Have you ever noticed how it’s always about them?  You’ll never meet a baby that cries because someone else is hungry.  You’ll never hear of a baby that weeps on the behalf of another.  Guarantee that if you hear a baby crying at a funeral that it has nothing to do with the deceased.  It won’t happen.  And worse, they’re stealing all of my friends.  I used to know this group of guys and gals that on any given Tuesday could drink and stay up all night playing foosball and darts.  Now babies are running their lives.

How selfish are babies you ask?  Well imagine your personal set of principles includes driving a fuel-efficient vehicle.  A baby demands a mini van.  Why?  It’s completely counter-intuitive to buy the biggest vehicle on the market to carry a seven-pound human.  But a baby demands the legroom and the space for its portable all-in-one jungle gym/breast pump/diaper Genie/booger baster.  Not so long ago, my friends, the ones who have been robbed of their will by babies, would never skip a Bronco game for an episode of Veggie Tales.  They do now.  Why?  That’s what the baby wants.  The little bugger can entertain itself for hours with an empty box or a dead bug but it just loves to impose its will on the bigger people.  It’s a game they love to play.  And we’re all losing to the babies.  
 
I’m going to conjure up a couple of these babies and show them who’s the boss.

Comments

[bd-eyes]

Oh you just had to go and open the door for someone to step right through the threshold and let you know just what all YOU really are missing, didn't you? Babies grow up and become snotty nosed, smart-alecked pre-teens just daring you to say something that they will not dare to have a condescending reply to. My 12 year old has all but told me that I have been replaced at any and all basketball games (season ticket holders have their pride). But I showed him, the little booger, has he gone yet to any play-off games this year? Heck no, but then there has only been one. There is tomorrow though, and he is expecting me to fold and let him go because his sister has softball practice and needs some new cleats and presumes I will be the one to do the hardware exchange. Dream on little man! Of course this disparaging mood all changes when at night he comes up to you and throws his arms around your neck and gives you a great big hug, a kiss on both cheeks, and says those magical words..."I need a Davey Crockett costume for Social Studies class tomorrow by 9:00" and then scampers off to bed. Parenthood, you have to love it! [ok, I am off my soap box now, sorry]