Oh snap.
Today I went to the wedding rehearsal of one of my closest friends. And I have witnessed her do a lot of strange, logic-lacking things in the past few years (like marrying the guy she’s marrying) and today, she did another one.
First, she stuck her one year old son in a chair. Maybe he’s one and a half. I don’t know.
She straps him into a booster seat, and then sets in front of him a paper plate, with a GINORMOUS piece of crumbly, super-frosted cake on it. And I mean this piece of cake was insane… it was at least the size of the baby’s head…and that baby has a BIG head.
Then, on the plate, my friend places a fork. *stare* Yes. A fork. Like the one year old is going to pick up the fork and say, “Why thank you mother, how did you know?”
I’m left sitting there, counting down the seconds until he wings that cake at me as my friend walks away…and about ten seconds later, that baby had more cake on him than the cake did.
A few minutes after that, (once he had flung it in every direction possible), I attempted to clean him off.
As I was trying to pry globs off this food encrusted child, the thought, “Wow, this is super gross. I’m not having kids until I’m thirty.” Crossed my mind.
Honestly, I love babies and kids. I like to play with them. And then give them back. Someday, I will have a few.
Yet as of right now, food oozing babies still freak me out.
First, she stuck her one year old son in a chair. Maybe he’s one and a half. I don’t know.
She straps him into a booster seat, and then sets in front of him a paper plate, with a GINORMOUS piece of crumbly, super-frosted cake on it. And I mean this piece of cake was insane… it was at least the size of the baby’s head…and that baby has a BIG head.
Then, on the plate, my friend places a fork. *stare* Yes. A fork. Like the one year old is going to pick up the fork and say, “Why thank you mother, how did you know?”
I’m left sitting there, counting down the seconds until he wings that cake at me as my friend walks away…and about ten seconds later, that baby had more cake on him than the cake did.
A few minutes after that, (once he had flung it in every direction possible), I attempted to clean him off.
As I was trying to pry globs off this food encrusted child, the thought, “Wow, this is super gross. I’m not having kids until I’m thirty.” Crossed my mind.
Honestly, I love babies and kids. I like to play with them. And then give them back. Someday, I will have a few.
Yet as of right now, food oozing babies still freak me out.