Yesterday, it was party time.
For our family, that meant I drove to two grocery stores after work looking for the ever elusive six pack of Enfamil infant formula you so desperately crave when the restaurant is not available.
The restaurant is what we call your mother’s breasts, and last night, they were temporarily unavailable because she was taking them to a bible study. Hence, party time for daddy and Blue.
Two grocery stores after beginning my trek, I hopped into my car with formula in hand, pulled up to the stop sign and went to turn out into the street. As I did this, a small group of teenagers walked by on the sidewalk. One of them was carrying a baby.
For a brief moment, I gasped. To my horror, the baby was in direct sunlight, unprotected from the harsh glare of the ultraviolet rays searing its exposed baby skin.
Here’s a fun fact, Blue. Did you know that babies are vampires? It’s true. You have cold feet and hands, you suck blood (well…technically milk but it’s derived from blood), and you can’t stand sunlight. It burns you in seconds flat, and if parents didn’t cover you with a big, floppy hat or an umbrella, you’d turn into ash or glow like diamonds in no time.
“DON’T BURN THAT VAMPIRE BABY!” I wanted to scream.
But I didn’t.
As I drove by, I noticed the baby was made from plastic. And the mother was clearly taking one of those classes where you have to take care of a plastic baby for the day to see how hard it is to raise a real vampire baby.
“Well, she’s getting an F,” I muttered to myself. And then I drove home to you, my little chubby, pale Nosferatu.