Hit me. Please. I’m serious. I’ve been trying to wait it out, but to no avail.
It’s happened. I’ve turned into a girl. A real girl. And it happened over night:
Yes, that’s ALL it took, one dream about babies. TEN BABIES!!! How is that not a nightmare? Who wants ten babies? Seriously. No one wants ten babies. Other than the Duggars, they want ten-kathousand babies. I do not want ten babies. But in this dream, I had all these babies, and they were all so cute, and I had the cutest, fattest one perched on my hip, with a little sunhat on. And, oh, her chubby little face. Her chubby face smiling up at me, glowing. GLOWING!?!?!?! Rosie fat baby cheeks! Cheeks you could pinch for years. And I loved that dream baby.
Ungh. Ungh x 10. Ungh x 10kathousand.
I woke up feeling warm and fuzzy, WANTING BABIES. Thinking, ooh, my babies will be SO CUTES.
Let me say for the record I HATE babies. They are wet, and smell, and scream, and spit up, and lots look ugly. I do not like them. Rather, I didn’t like them. Sigh. All my baby hating ways have vanished. POUFF! Any normal person waking up after dreaming about ten babies would call it a total freaking nightmare. Not me, no. No, instead I start cooing at babies. Giggling at babies. Smiling at babies on the street. Trying to make babies laugh.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
My boss brought in his new baby, it’s this cranky little thing. His tiny little fists are permanently clenched, ready for a fight, and he whines, and squirms and howls. He clearly takes after his father. I was hoping this would cure me, because normally a morning of this would be enough for me to go home “sick” for the rest of the day. But no, I was not cured. I said “sup holla” to the baby, looked at him, asked him questions about what was making him so angry. I was happy to see the baby.
And then my sister found this:
I’m sorry, that is the cutest freaking thing I have ever seen.
The giant dog is HUGGING the baby. COME ON!
Tomorrow I am going to a BBQ at my sister’s, and there will be a baby. I am excited to hang out with the baby.
Basically, I am doomed. My solution? Put all my creepy, new-found baby loving energy into puppy loving. My new mission: Get a Great Dane. Awesome.