Oh baby!

You know what really tweaks my nipples?  Babies…more specifically, babies with parents who feel that somehow their decision to reproduce makes them entitled to special treatment anywhere they go.

I have saved a special space in my to-be-built-dungeon for these uber-lazy parents.  You know, the ones who push little Mercedes or Trevor around in one of those enormous tanks disguised as a stroller.  I see them on the subway during rush hour, taking up the space of 5 people, I see them in narrow groceries stores, I see them forcing people off the side walk…and the worst part of the deal, there’s always a baby inside them, pooping and peeing and generally carrying on.  It seems lazy to me…not only are you forcing your spawn upon everyone, but you’re taking up precious urban space while doing it and making sure your kids starts out life in a fat promoting position, preparing it for a life of obesity.

Worse off, if you voice this opinion you are labeled as either hating babies, not understanding what it’s like being a parent, or both.  But here’s the deal…I’ve seen what REAL parents are like.  I was riding the subway north from Eaton Centre a few weeks ago and saw a bizarre thing: A mother and her infant daughter and not a stroller in sight!  I was so surprised that I asked her about it…here is what she said, paraphrased:

Well, I live downtown, and those strollers take up so much space…I have one at home, but only use it when we go to the park.  I prefer carrying my daughter around…it’s good exercise for both of us and we have more physical contact.

Boom, the perfect parent.  Also of note, there was no baby-accompanying tote of assorted toys, treats, and what not, just a small bag for some diapers and a bottle.  If I ever have a child I darn well will try to imitate this mom.  Heck, even one of those fun little baby bags you wear is a good option.

Oh, what prompted this little rant, you ask?  Well, mostly this article and the accompanying website.  Also, I apparently live in the GTA’s breeding ground…yeesh.

The moral?  Not really one, just felt like venting.  Now I must ice my nipples.