Let me start this by saying that I like babies. I really do. I used to be one, once, and I think I was pretty good at the job. I think it’s our duty to teach the skills of the occupation to the newcomers … I mean, you don’t think we’re just BORN knowing how to drool, spit up, gurgle and cry, do you?

Here’s the thing, though. It’s become increasingly common for people to take their babies (I’m talking infants here, not toddlers) along with them to what I consider wholly inappropriate places. I have spoken many times of the “federally-mandated screaming baby” on every airline flight. At least this is an appropriate place for a baby to be … just like the rest of us, the baby’s got to get from A to B somehow. Sometimes, though, parents just don’t seem to think before bringing their very young baby out on the town.

A nice restaurant, like the one where I just had lunch, would be a great example of an inappropriate place. The room is noisy. Strange people are walking around, brushing past the baby, spreading germs and causing anxiety. The table is stacked with odd varieties of food, nothing even remotely baby-friendly. The adults are engaged in conversation with their adult friends. Periodically, a waiter drops a tray, or a patron laughs loudly, or a troup of waiters and waitresses comes parading out, clapping their hands and singing a changed-to-avoid-copyright-infringement version of “Happy Birthday”. Put all these together, and what you have is a frightened, shrieking infant.

Now, I admit that I didn’t specifically ask to be seated in the non-shrieking section, so for my part I had little cause for complaint. It’s true that a shrieking baby, especially one being roundly ignored by its parents, is an attention-getter. That’s part of our innate behavior … our minds have been pre-programmed with a particular aversion to the sound of a crying baby, so that we’ll have a natural instinct to protect. I seriously worry about any person who can listen to a child scream or cry and not be bothered or at least set on edge. This brings me to the parents.

While this baby shrieked, cried, gurgled, wiggled, threw small objects, and generally did everything in his little repertoire to try and get someone’s attention, the only ones who noticed him were those at the adjacent tables. He had the attention of every single person in the room except the adults he accompanied. They acted as if he weren’t there. The child might have sat up, grabbed a crayon, and written down the proof of Fermat’s last theorem, and the parents would have simply chatted on, oblivious.

The fact that this baby was there at all is a sign that these folks were thinking of themselves and not their child. He wasn’t having a bit of fun and was, from outward appearance, completely miserable. I know I have no right to judge someone else’s parenting, and I know (God, how I know!) that parents need their time too, but this just seemed wrong. I didn’t want to create a scene by saying something to the parents, but I had to say something to someone. Hello, someone!

There’s still no internet connection here at my office. Well, there’s a dial-up one, but with apologies to
Milk Monster’s Mom:

SCOTT: It’s no good Doctor, this is like trying to suck treacle through a piece of quick cook spaghetti.

I tried to send a file to an associate near Cleveland today, and I really think it might have been faster to copy the file onto a floppy or CD and send it by mule train. It’s gotten so bad that I’ve actually made arrangements to work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings from home, because I have a far, far faster connection there.

I heard this morning that The Merman is now safely within the borders of the U S of A, and is presently sweltering in the heat somewhere in Florida (known to Homer Simpson as “America’s Wang”.) I hope he had a pleasant flight … I’m not sure the screaming baby is mandatory on international flights.

Three days, three blogs. This could become a habit!