Secret

I have a secret. I don't think it's a very well kept one, but a secret it is none the less as nobody has accused me yet. There have been no people in the street with pitchforks and burning torches, and no friends have refused to be in contact with me over my shameful secret.

You see, I am not a baby person.

Sure, I will coo and cootchy-coo and maybe do a little bit of tiny baby foot tickling, but then I will retreat to the other side of the room and watch from afar.

Three times since being a responsible adult I have held a baby.

The first, was very nearly a toddler. She could hold her own head, and sit, and steal things off the table to stick in her mouth. We were at a BBQ and we all sat, and had some drinks, and took turns holding the baby whilst she was sitting on the table. When it was my turn, everyone continued talking and cotchycooing, and the baby, she continued drooling and trying to eat people's phones and beer cans. I on the other hand sat like a statue with this wriggling thing in my hands. Suddenly, she was no cute light haired baby girl but an object of doom and danger. Soon, she would suddenly swallow something, or fly out of my hands and land headfirst on something hard or pointy. But of course, nothing happened, and in due course she was handed on, and hopefully, my secret was safe.

The second, was a week old baby boy. So fragile, and tiny and breakable. I sat, with a pillow on my knee and a tiny thing held in my arms. All I could think was that he could not support his own head and I was going to drop him and...
All was, of course well.

The third time the baby was similarly young and I was hungover. I didn't have a pillow so it was all on me not to kill this beautiful miracle of a thing. This wriggling, farting was thing in my arms and I had no thoughts of cuteness and of wanting one of my own. Instead I was acutely aware of it's body in one hand and of the head in my other.

We are now of the age, m'dearest and I were our friends are getting married and having sbrogletts. Were staying with some of our friends at the moment and so far I have not been asked to hold the baby.

I will not say no of course, for they should never know my secret.

For the last two days I have cotchy-cooed and rocked whilst he was in his chair but never has the burden been only on me....

When I grow up I don't want a baby, I want a child. Let's skip the scarily fragile bit OK?

Hwyl a sbrii