Babies Are Scary!
Leaving the Subway the other night, I noticed a single mother struggling to carry her baby stroller up the stairs, so, naturally I lent a hand to help her up with it (you can't let her take it up by herself...you just can't).
At the bottom of the steps, I offered my help, she accepted, and I grabbed hold of the front end of it, at the bottom of the front wheels. Climbing up the stairs, I glanced at the baby and noticed that the tyke was staring at me.
It did not blink, it did not shift its eyes. The baby made no facial expression whatsoever, it just stared at me, unwavering, with his or her (I couldn't tell) big brown peepers. The baby did not make a sound, either. It simply lay there inside the stroller in silence, looking at me. It...was...so...creepy.
I had to break focus with it and look the other way, for fear of it swiping my soul.
Babies can be scary sometimes. Besides the obvious fears any other rational 20-something would have of not being able to take care of one, babies present other fears. For instance, when they are not being curious and making typical baby noises, or bubbling their spit, and instead forcing creepy stares into your cerebellum.
When doing something like this, they look like they know about something you don't, like they are plotting something. The worst part is that you can't communicate with them. You can't ask them, "What? What is it? Is something wrong?"
So as I'm tensing the muscles in my face and the rest of my body, trying to carry this cumbersome stroller up the stairs, while trying to look away from the child inside it, I can feel the baby's burning vision on my skin, just waiting for me to make a false move, in which case it would surely shoot lasers out of its eyes or press a secret button from within the stroller launching a homing missile straight for my crotch, ensuring I would never have kids.
Once I got up the stairs, I put that stroller down, and ran.
If and when I have kids, I'm going to put sunglasses on them at all times. That way they'll always look cool.
At the bottom of the steps, I offered my help, she accepted, and I grabbed hold of the front end of it, at the bottom of the front wheels. Climbing up the stairs, I glanced at the baby and noticed that the tyke was staring at me.
It did not blink, it did not shift its eyes. The baby made no facial expression whatsoever, it just stared at me, unwavering, with his or her (I couldn't tell) big brown peepers. The baby did not make a sound, either. It simply lay there inside the stroller in silence, looking at me. It...was...so...creepy.
I had to break focus with it and look the other way, for fear of it swiping my soul.
Babies can be scary sometimes. Besides the obvious fears any other rational 20-something would have of not being able to take care of one, babies present other fears. For instance, when they are not being curious and making typical baby noises, or bubbling their spit, and instead forcing creepy stares into your cerebellum.
When doing something like this, they look like they know about something you don't, like they are plotting something. The worst part is that you can't communicate with them. You can't ask them, "What? What is it? Is something wrong?"
So as I'm tensing the muscles in my face and the rest of my body, trying to carry this cumbersome stroller up the stairs, while trying to look away from the child inside it, I can feel the baby's burning vision on my skin, just waiting for me to make a false move, in which case it would surely shoot lasers out of its eyes or press a secret button from within the stroller launching a homing missile straight for my crotch, ensuring I would never have kids.
Once I got up the stairs, I put that stroller down, and ran.
If and when I have kids, I'm going to put sunglasses on them at all times. That way they'll always look cool.
posted by Leland J. Fischer at 10:15 PM
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