Just Off Center

The absolute cutesiest thing happened to me last week. That’s right, I said cutesiest. Eat my fuck. Nina and I were breathing fire at each other for a few hours one night last week about some bullshit that I’m not even going to pretend to remember. Something to do with me cooking dinner and still having to wash the dishes. Whatever. Anyway, while we were in the grips of our bickering, we got a phone call from our friend Soana. Soana is apparently a fairly common Mormon name. Damn, Mormons name their daughters some weird shit. We know a Kayleen too, which I’m told is a very common name among LDS girls. But the Mormon guys I know? Steve and Brian. Go figure.

Anyway, Steve and Soana had recently had their first child, a girl named… … shit. It’ll come to me. Fuck it, it’s not like she’s going to answer to me calling her. So Soana was on her way home from someplace and wanted to stop by just to say hi. We’re popular like that. And she was bringing her baby.

Contrary to what one might think of me, I actually love kids. I like them best when they’re about age three to six. I can play with them all day long without worrying about breaking them because they’re so small. Nor do I feel that great sense of responsibility to teach them anything because they’re too young. And for some reason, little kids seem to like me too. But this wasn’t a kid. This bun was still steaming from popping out about a month ago.

When Soana arrived, the baby was sleeping from the car ride. Then when she set her down on the kitchen table her little prune eyes fluttered for a moment and then she opened her gummy maw to produce what, to her, must have been her best effort at a cry. Nina had gone to bed all mad at me about fifteen minutes prior, but she had to have heard the crying because she emerged to say hello. That kid could have cried all day around me and not bothered me one percent as much as the average two-year-old at Chili’s. I’m sure that volume will come with a bit more age.

A few minutes later it was feeding time for the little lady. Soana offered her to Nina, but Nina was afraid of breaking her or something. Since this was one of those opportunities that I’ll only have with other peoples’ children, I volunteered. I gently took her little wrapped up body and Soana showed me how to hold her with the bottle. I plugged her head with the rubber nipple and she started suckling away. Instantly my mind conjured up images of that poster that women love. You know the one. It depicts a shirtless man with a model’s body from the side view as he holds an infant in his legs, cooing at it and generally triggering the “daddies make me horny” instinct in all of womankind.

I looked up at Nina who was engaged in some complainy shoptalk back and forth with Soana. Why does it seem that women, for all their ability to talk, seem to do nothing around each other but bitch? Anyway, I was looking with one eye on the baby trying to see if Nina would see me and start to get weak in the knees at how sexy I looked holding a newborn. Alas, she is altogether without maternal instinct. A vision like this can turn even the angriest woman into a puddle from the cloying. But I was to remain unfuckable for the remainder of the evening.

I let the baby finish her bottle, but she still wanted more. Time for mom to step in, kid. I can’t field this request. The well is dry. Actually, the well is nonexistent. Somehow Nina was able to maintain her anger with me throughout this whole thing. And it occurred to me that it was a very good thing that I have decided not to share this life with any offspring. Because Nina sure as hell isn’t touting any innate maternal instincts.

So to make a short story long, I really enjoyed holding that baby. I hope I get the chance to grab me another one soon… as long as it doesn’t share my genetic signature.

# posted by Mike @ 2:08 PM