I like babies. I love when people I know have babies and tell me about them, show me pictures, or best of all let me hold them. Babies are cute and their little newborn cries don’t even bother me.
But here’s a short little rant about what I don’t get about babies:
Why…WHY do we have an obsession with the pounds and inches of them when they are born. They are almost always average. Rarely are they under 5 pounds. They are almost never over 9 pounds and they usually fall somewhere in the middle. I mean, can’t we just say they are big, average or small? I feel like it’s a dumb fact I am supposed to remember for future quizzing.
I’m really not trying to be cynical here, I just don’t care how many inches your baby is. I just care if you let me hold it and squueze it’s cheeks.
Thank you for listening. Good Night.
They always ask how big the baby is. Never “how much volume does the baby displace” or “is it a boy or girl” or “did it survive?” Nothing! It bothers me, too.
I agree with Norb here. They also never set up speed cameras nearby to work out exit velocity, never have a rating system based on the likeness to a moistened Winston Churchill (which all babies do an impression of) and so rarely do I hear “s/he’s a beautiful baby, and the paternity test is due to arrive any minute…”
All this vital information is just missing.
I walked past a little baby in his baby-holder snapped into a shopping cart the other day and smelled his little baby smell and wanted to steal him.
And I don’t know why the size is such an important announcement-worthy statistic. Especially since most girls don’t even squeeze the baby out anymore. A few ounces here or there don’t matter so much when he is cut out of you. But what do I know, I am still babyless.
My nephew is four now and has kind of been a little a-hole lately, so I told my dog this morning that he is the best kind of child. Even after watching Cesar on tv this morning saying how we shouldn’t project our weirdo-ness on to our dogs and make them our children. Whoopsie, too late.
Max was impossible from one and a half to four. Completely impossible. I only tell the fun stories of him on here. But still, he was better than our newest dog who pees on the floor and runs away at every opportunity. I need to get one of these obedient dogs people talk about.
The inches thing is primal, it also shows up when talking about the fish we catch or “boy-parts.” If women do it when talking about babies, I think that’s just proof that we really are from the same species. And I’ve had my doubts.
I have a question of my own. This is in no way a pet peeve or anything, just a curiosity of mine. Why do women refer to their child’s age in months after the child has passed the 1 year mark as in “He’s 19 and a half months”?
I dunno. After a year I abandoned the month counting with the Max. I would either say he turns __ in September or he turned ___ in September though. If you just say “He’s one” people (ladies) want to know if he is closer to one or two.
Well, thanks. That makes perfect sense.
I’ve always been really annoyed by the months thing too. Your kid’s not 16 months. He’s one. He’s a one year old. How long are you supposed to keep that up?