The baby in line behind me in the coffee shop
She looks at me and says something in baby-babble. âBaba!!!â
I look and smile and wave, like youâre supposed to.
âBaba!!!â The tiny human exclaims. She claps her hands. âBaba!!â
The mother translates. âShe thinks you are her cousin, Lana. You have the same hair. Sheâs confused why you arenât playing with her. Thatâs what Lana would do.â
It is definitely time for a haircut.
âBaba!â The baby says. Her brow is furrowed. It is now more a demand than an excited exclamation. She pounds her little fists in an adorable display of tiny authoritarianism. âBaba!â She says again.
This is a delicate situation. I have become trapped in this tiny childâs emotional whims. The wrong look, gesture, motion, and there will be tears of rage and sorrow. She wont take her eyes off me.
âthatâs not Lana,â the mother says. But the baby with furrowed brows is beyond reason.
She thinks Iâm her older cousin, Lana. She loves Lana. She requires Lanaâs attention. Luckily I know babies have limited object permanence. Perhaps if I go out of sight, thereby disappearing forever, the child will forget about me and carry on with itâs business.
I get my coffee and do so, disappearing around the corner of the bar, obscured by the espresso machine.
There is a wail of terrible sadness, unconsolable and piercing the ears of every patron. âBabaaaaaaa!!!!!!!â
The mother tries to hush her but the cries will not be placated. I try to reappear into view, but the child is no longer paying attention to anything on this earthly realm. Until another patron appears in her sight. A woman who scrunches up her face and says âhi there,â and waves. The baby waves back, smiling. Disaster is averted. The world is restored to itâs precarious balance, teetering just at the edge of disaster.
reblogging because Iâm hilarious and this should be appreciated
yet another reminder














