I’m an animal person. Not only your usual human companions like dogs and cats, but pretty much every kind of creature that walks, hops, flies or slithers around.
Well, maybe not so much that slither part. Snakes are fine, just as long as they’re a good distance away from me.
I like animals. A good deal. I’ve been known to exclaim “Puppy!” anytime I’m driving and happen to pass a person walking a dog. Regardless of whether or not anyone is in the car with me to hear it or if the dog is old enough to be my father.
It’s just the way I do business.
One thing I’m not super into? Babies. Human ones.
I don’t dislike babies, by any means. I just don’t find them as appealing as animals. I respond to a baby in a room the same way I do a coffee table: It’s just a thing that’s there. It’s not adding to or distracting from my life experiences.
I wasn’t raised around a ton of babies so I don’t really know what to do with one when it’s around or how to interact with it. I’m not quite on the level of Schwarzenegger in “T-2,” but maybe just a hair below.
Babies and I aren’t on the same page, but like I said, I don’t have a problem with them.
Something I do have a problem with? Girls and babies.
Not the girls who are really into babies. The type of ladies of when they see one they immediately exclaim “Baby!” and scratch it behind the ear, or whatever it is you do with them. That line of thinking I can at least understand.
The girls I have a problem with are these super-militant feminist chicks who hate, hate, hate babies. There is without a doubt a male version of this person, but today, I want to focus on the ladies.
I guess these gals look at a little cooing baby as a set of chains, just waiting to trap them and drag them away from their careers or whatever life it is they have planned for themselves.
Recently, a co-worker bought his baby in to work. The kid was greeted with the usual “oohs” and “ahhs” by most folks. Not by me. I treated it the same way I would treat an adult that I didn’t know walking into the office: I just let it be unless we crossed paths. Then I’d offer it a friendly nod or tip of the cap. But that would be all.
A female co-worker, who also happened to be one of those militant feminist types, well, she had her own way of dealing with the baby. She made a scene (in her cube away from the crowd, but she sat next to me so I could totally hear it) with another female co-worker acting as if the guy had just bought a giant plague rat into the office. There was also lot of cattily making fun of people for being excited about the baby.
Everyone’s free to like or dislike whatever they want, but the idea of being so belligerently opposed to something that can do you no harm is insane to me. The only things on this planet that I would make me act that way if they suddenly showed up at my job are things with sharper claws and teeth and a more pronounced killing instinct than I possess. (Like a bear. From a far though, I would totally think it was cute.)
Otherwise, stop being such a reverse stereotype and chill. That’s right. You may not like to hear it, but you going out of your way to hate on babies is just as cliché as an effervescent love of babies. It’s just at opposite ends of the cliché spectrum.
And leave the people who like babies alone to like babies. They’re not hurting you any more than I am when I see a stray cat and immediately start drawing up plans in my mind for capturing it and bringing it home.
Maybe that girl never got “the talk” about where babies came from and thought that if she got too close, she’d get one too. Who can say?
Or maybe – more likely considering the rest of her body of work at the job – she’s just kind of a pain in the ass.