Screaming Adults… Err, Babies

They sell us love as divinity, when it’s only a social obscenity. Underneath, we’re all lovable…”
-Eve Libertine

It’s not that I love it when I hear the sound(s) of crying babies at work. It’s not that I dislike them, the kids, at all, it’s more about the satisfaction I get from playing the silent blame-game afterwards. (Not to mention the undeniable fact that it’s a loaded battle: those babies are equipped with cries that are biologically engineered to cause dismay in any and all humans within earshot! Pretending to not care is the best anyone could hope for.)

The mother will start everything off by announcing, “Oh, fingers, fingers!” before something heavy drops on a wayward finger. Cue a few seconds later, and then the screaming starts.

I’ll look at the mother with the “why did you just interrupt my otherwise splendidly banal day with this noise?” look/accusation.

She responds back with the piercing “Don’t judge me or my (questionable) parenting!” stare.

I (have to) relent by asking, “is it [from this distance both genders generally look the same, small misshapen blobs with a few stray strands of bottlebrush hair] okay?” with a healthy dose of feigned concern.

She then crosses all lines of decency/good taste/morality with her final, “Oh, and now the tears start…”

I told her there had been a lot of dust floating around, irritating my eyes!

Shaved Women

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