Baby Not Mine

The happiest I ever feel is when I see a baby. It’s big, innocent eyes fill me with such joy. The cute cheeks, the little toes, the soft hair — every part of a baby is so cute!

Whether I’m passing one on the street or watching one on a friend’s Instagram story, seeing a baby makes me so incredibly happy that it’s not mine and that I am in no way responsible for another human’s life.

Looking at a baby isn’t nearly as good as actually holding a baby. Seriously, have you ever held one? The warmth of their perfect, tiny body gives you hope for the future. The way they grab your finger or rest their face on your shoulder makes you feel truly needed.

Whenever I’m holding a baby, I feel like a real woman — a real woman who doesn’t have to wake up in the middle of the night to care for a wordless, miniature person.

And of course, there’s that baby smell. It smells like love and purity. These little ones haven’t been tainted by the evil of the world yet, and their scent reflects that. If you haven’t had the chance to smell a newborn baby, you’re truly missing out.

Every time there’s a baby nearby I take a huge whiff of its life-affirming smell and then in the same breath yell, “Thank God I have no biological attachments to this helpless, squirming being!”

It’s pretty much the best.

People sometimes think it’s stereotypical how I react around babies. They call me a girly-girl and say I’m “baby crazy.” I’m not going to apologize for this behavior though because the only thing I love more than babies is the knowledge that I can walk away from them whenever I want without suffering legal consequences.

My excitement over babies has nothing to do with my gender, it only has to do with the reminder they serve that I don’t have to spend even a single second keeping a money-sucking, food-stealing, home-invading creature alive. Adorable!

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