NEW CASTLE —
Baby, baby, baby, oooh.
Like baby, baby, baby, NO!
No, I'm not singing a Justin Beiber song. I have just been bombarded with babies. At every turn, there is a woman with child or a glowing new father. Seemingly every TV show, commercial, and social gathering is chockfull of newborn babies or women who are well along in their pregnancies.
My wife and I were at a picnic just last weekend and there was a baby boy who was only a few weeks old. All the women were taking turns loving on him and talking the baby talk. I could see the gleam in my wife’s eye every time the child came near. Eventually, I got the nudging elbow, followed by the statement, “We need one of those.”
“NO!” my inner voice screamed. It was a shriek like none other. I could feel it echo through my flesh and bones as I took a deep breath and sighed.
My cousin and his wife just had a set of beautiful twin girls. My mom, grandma, aunts, and other cousins have been posting lots of pictures of the new bundles of joy on different social media sites. I'm happy for them, and I'm sure she is relieved that she is done with the whole pregnancy thing and to be back home.
They live only a few miles from my home. My mother has been over to visit and has taken my daughter with her. When she returned home, my daughter was very talkative about the babies. But I warn you, the mere mention of the word “baby” is not unlike releasing the Kraken. Once that word “baby” is discharged into the air, I can immediately see the smile of delight and wishful thoughts that come over my wife's face.
Thus far, I have been able to keep my wife from visiting their house, which is obviously infected with the “baby-having virus.” I don’t want my wife to be anywhere near that, because as you know, that stuff is very contagious.
Do you remember the old 1980s film, “Beetlejuice?” Where if you said “Beetlejuice” three times in succession then the clumsy, decaying-yet-comedic star of the film would magically appear? I have a theory that babies are much the same. Say the word one too many times and — pow! — that little EPT test is reading positive.
The Beetlejuice factor, coupled with the highly contagious aspect of the entire situation, has forced me to become a recluse and avoid all contact with the outside world. Soon I will be sleeping in a tent out in the woods to distance myself from even the possibility of catching the baby bug.
If you happen to see me wandering the streets and you have been in contact with a newborn child or even a pregnant woman, please avoid all contact with me. Because I will certainly be doing the same with you.
NEW CASTLE —
Baby, baby, baby, oooh.
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