Please Don’t Hand Me Your Child Because I Forgot How To Baby

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I could tell this was going to be easy. I had done this. I used to spend four hours with my kid when she was a baby, and nothing bad ever really happened. My husband doesn’t have to be at work until midmorning, so he kept the baby occupied for two hours, giggling and cooing and doing adorable baby stuff.  Then he left.

I got on the floor to keep the kid company during tummy time, and I said. “Okay, kid. We’ve got two hours until your mother gets here. Just you and me. What do you want to do?”

The answer was cry.

She wanted to cry for two hours, which she did, and when her mother showed up she wasn’t surprised. I was apologizing over and over for not being able to make her kid happy, which she laughed off.

“She’s a baby. Babies cry.”

Do they?

I don’t remember my kid crying that often, but she must have. I don’t remember potty training sucking that bad until my husband reminds me that it took almost two years and one prolapsed rectum (don’t google that) to accomplish. I don’t remember training her to eat solids being too much of a chore until another of my friends showed up with yogurt and mashed peas in her hair, a zombie-like mask of sleep deprivation on her face, begging me to tell her that it gets better, that it gets easier.

I couldn’t tell her that, but I can do you one better.

Give it a few years, you’ll forget all about it.

(Getty Images)

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