In Which I Do NOT Drop a Baby

I have become rather adept at pretending to like children.  Really, the act is almost too good, as evidenced by the incident which took place on May 10th, at approximately 4:36 PM.

Let the record show that I was working.

A woman had come in to my place of business with her baby, a child who had only known life outside the womb for a few short weeks.  The baby was ensconced in a stroller/crib.  You know the ones...they look like a crib, but, you know, on wheels.  Woman wanted to try things on, and parked Baby in it's croller just outside the dressing room.

My coworker (let us call her Leela to protect her identity) was attempting to entertain the child with such devices as silly faces, and soft, cooing noises.  Baby seemed to enjoy this, and it kept Baby from becoming upset whilst it's mother donned various articles of clothing, such as are sold in the store.

Leela was called away, and Baby became agitated.  Not wanting Woman to feel she needed to stop in her quest for new garments, I stepped up to the croller, in full view of Baby, and smiled.  Baby smiled back.

I then spent several minutes engaged in what I believe is a rather cruel game known as "peek-a-boo".  I managed to convince Baby that I had disappeared from existence the moment my hands passed in front of my face, only to magically reappear upon drawing them away.  Baby seemed delighted to discover that I was still alive every time my face became visible.  Still, Baby began to twist and squirm, seeming to search for something which was absent.  Was Baby looking for Woman?  Or was Baby merely becoming distressed by the number of times I vanished into nothingness only to return whole and seemingly unharmed from that abyss.  How many times can one really visit such a place before one is simply gone for good, Baby wondered...perhaps.

Fortunately, Woman had completed her task, and relieved me from my duty to Baby.  I took those items she wished to call her own in exchange for money, and she picked up the fussing Baby, and cradled it in her arms lovingly.

But then, alas, a cardigan caught her eye, and it pleased her.  She wished to admire it on herself before deciding to own it, and she turned to me beseechingly.

"Do you mind holding her while I try this on?" quoth she.  My blood ran hot then cold.  My arms came up in a gesture of defense, and my feet took one or two shuffling steps backward.  Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as several thoughts at once clamored for my attention.

Of course you can hold Baby...what could possibly go wrong?

What if I drop it...have I ever actually held a baby before?

You won't drop it, and really, can it be that much different from holding a cat?

Yes.  Yes it can be very different.  For one thing, cats land on their feet if you drop them.   Babies...erm...bounce.

But you were sort of getting on, you and Baby.  It's actually rather cute when it's not screaming...

But it can turn on you in an instant.  Oh sure, you're friends now, but any moment Baby will transform into a shrieking rage monster with huge, pointy teeth, and a taste for entrails.

Yes, better not.

"Oh, um...no, I'm not really..."

"Oh, OK."  Seeming to sense my fear, Woman set Baby back in the croller and proceeded to contemplate the cardigan.

I let out a deep sigh, and congratulated myself on having narrowly avoided disaster.

But this is a dangerous road I walk, pretending to like children.  Sometimes (and I only confess this to you because you are my closest confidant) I even think it might not be pretend.

They terrify me, and yet I am oddly intrigued by them.  After all, was I not once one of their ilk?

It is an interesting question.  Very interesting, indeed.

Regards,
Julia


PS-The above is a slightly exaggerated true story.  Also, I had a conversation about dinosaurs with a little girl yesterday, just so you know I'm not a complete monster.  We decided that while we would not like to meet a dinosaur in person, they are really cool.