Babies grow up to be some of the most evil people in history. At one point, Hitler was a baby. Osama bin Laden was a baby. The guy who wrote the Liberty liberty liiiiberty jingle was a baby.
I don’t know many babies. I don’t have a baby. There are currently no babies in my family. I legitimately have no idea when babies start talking or reading or walking.
At what age do babies open their eyes? When do they start moving their arms? Do they breathe like normal people? Do babies have nightmares?
If you brought me a newborn and told me that thing just turned three, I’d believe you.
My understanding is that babies are like the Death Star—otherwise indestructible unless a small, one-man fighter can get through the baby’s outer defenses and fire proton torpedoes at their thermal exhaust port—recognized, medically, as the baby’s soft spot.
I don’t know anything about babies—how to hold them, how to burp them, how to fight them off if they get aggressive.
Looking into a baby’s eyes feels like getting punched in the liver. And in case you don’t know this—blunt force trauma to the liver is excruciatingly painful. A left hook to the right side of the ribcage is an incredibly effective way to incapacitate an opponent. And babies can do that—with their eyes.
Babies are just too mechanically complex for me.
Babies will grow up and decide they need to reinvent themselves at some point. They’ll turn 26 and think to themselves: “Huh. Maybe I’m a hat guy.”
One day they’re pooping in a diaper and the next day they’re ordering a double bacon cheeseburger without tomato because ohhh tomatoes give me heartburn.
I imagine a baby trying to say its first word is like trying to cold start my ‘91 F-150. I’ll turn the key and it’ll sputter, trying to form words. Come on bud, papa’s here for ya, I’d say.
I guess the difference is that a baby can’t haul 7500 pounds of lumber up California’s Tejon Pass after it says dada.
I used to think babies were just large intestines with arms and legs. But I suppose we’re all just large intestines with arms and legs.
Someone once told me that babies don’t have kneecaps. I find this oddly motivational. It reminds me that I can do anything.
Don’t think you can start that business? Lose that weight? Give that speech? You were born without kneecaps. And now you have kneecaps—you can do anything.
A few months ago, I met my friend’s baby.
I just made sure to not look him in the eyes.
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I've had three babies and this is the first I've heard about being born without kneecaps. That might have changed everything. I'm sorry I ever read this. 😳
(Okay, I laughed. A lot. 😉)
Oh I feel ya. Never try to win an argument against a baby. You'll open with some snappy comebacks, then they'll start crying, then you'll start crying, and suddenly you're both crying but you are the one with a vomit stain on your shirt.
Get a dog