Wee Bairns

There were at least 7 babies on my flight back from Phoenix yesterday. I was in the window seat, with one right next to me. There were also 2 in the 2 rows in front of me. I was sure it was going to be a miserable 4 hours. I've never been one to ooh and ah over other people's offspring. When I waited on tables with infants I felt obligated to make a nice comment to help the tip along, but it was always awkward because I couldn't care less. Give me a puppy over a baby any day.

But these babies cornered me! They were relentlessly cute. I was ashamed of myself. When I noticed the little girl next to me staring at my earrings I pulled my hair back for her to see them better. When she liked my shiny bookmark I handed it to her and she promptly slobbered all over it. When the little boy in front of me popped up over the seat and screamed to surprise me, I was genuinely amused and engaged in gross small talk with his mother--and enjoyed it.

I hate it when women my age say their biological clock is ticking and that's why they obsess over babies. Maybe because I don't want to believe I'm becoming victim to it, too. But no, it's not true. I'm only in a mothering mood because I'm mother to a new baby kitten. Emberzetta, named for my great great great great aunt, is sitting right here next to my laptop now. And SHE sleeps through the night. She even helped me trap a cockroach last night. Try and get a baby to do that.