Letter to my son

Dear Smallest Child 'o' Mine,

Right now you are sleeping- and that is a good thing for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that you were nearly auctioned off on eBay. I toyed with the thought, but after realizing that no one would buy you in the state you had been in- that I would have had to pay THEM to take you- I walked away from the virtual auction house.

Today -at only 4 months old- you gave me a glimpse of your teenage years. Your insatiable appetite, your refusal to sleep, your constant cries in response to my pleading...

There's a chance I may revisit the eBay idea at a later date, but if that doesn't pan out, I might post you on Craigslist... or possibly FreeCycle.

You're 4 months old. It boggles my mind as to what you could POSSIBLY have to complain about. You weren't wet. You were constantly eating, so hunger was out of the question. I gave you the option of choosing what you wanted to wear today, but you stared at me blankly, so if the problem was your outfit, well, that's purely on you. You cried when I held you; you cried when I put you down. You cried when I talked to you; you cried when I sang to you- though, I don't blame you there. Vocally blessed, I am not.

My sweet, precious 4 month old- do you realize how close you came to being a sweet, precious 4 month old in a basket on someone else's doorstep today? The basket was negotiable- a laundry basket would have worked. Heck, you can't crawl- I thought about just setting you there, like a crying, little lump of wet clay. That when I passed by those doorstep's that held 'Welcome' mats, I looked at them as beacons of hope, beckoning me to leave my worries at their doorstep.

You -my love, my light- YOU are the reason why some animals eat their young. I can only imagine that the decision making process goes a little something like this:

“Aw, honey- our cubs are adorable! See that one? See how quiet she is? She's a thinker- we won't ever have to worry about HER getting picked off by a hunter.”

“What about that rowdy one?”

“Oh, he's a fighter! He's going to be a great leader of our pride one day!”

“And that one? The one that won't stop crying?”

“He's lunch.”

I'm not saying I'm thinking of eating you- that's horrible and wrong.

I WILL however be bookmarking eBay.

Love,

Mom

Fine print

I love babies.

They're sweet and cuddly and they smell good. I love their smiles and coos and the way they can make your heart melt with just one little half-cocked grin.

Really. I love babies.

That is, until they're mine.

That's when I can no longer give them back when they discontinue their sweetness, start squirming to get out of my arms, and constantly smell as if something is either proceeding to die or already rotting in their diapers. Its when they only smile and coo when they are trying to get their way. It when the moment I refuse to give in or am unable to decode their incessant babbling that they give up that half-cocked grin right before they give out a blood-curdling scream or spit up all over me-

-and less had gone in than came out-

THAT'S the time when I start wondering if its really all THAT illegal to sell your kids on eBay. I mean, a guy sold his entire LIFE- how wrong IS it to just want to sell one TINY little part... a part that's only 23 inches long.

So, yeah- babies are cute until they're mine.

Always discuss the refund policy, people. And read the fine print- they'll ALWAYS get you with the fine print. That's where those sneaky hospital personnel put in the “extras”. Things like, “You MUST leave the hospital with your child” or “Your maximum stay time is 2 days- after that, we'll be throwing you out, regardless of whether or not you're ready” or, my personal favorite “We will NOT be sending you home with a nanny”. You might think they don't mean it or that you will be looked upon as a special case, but trust me- they DO mean it.

At least, that's what the nice security guard told me.

Always read the fine print.