|I mean, how can you resist?|
Those ages zero to mid-elementary school will always be greeted by a voice eight octaves higher than my normal tone, and if they have an extra serving of Baby Charisma, I don't stand a chance of not embarrassing myself by fawning all over them.
"I love you, tiny stranger! I love you!"
When I was younger, it was totally fine to be open about my love for little ones, but now that I've reached an age considered "post Teen Mom," any time I point out a particularly cute tot, I'm received with an accusatory tick/tock stare-down. (Or an actual "tick tock" noise from Spiros.)
Really, though, I don't think I should've received any grief from him about getting worked up over ankle-biters on skis. There really is nothing more adorable.
|Seriously? You can literally pick them up by a handle! What is cuter than that?|
While I can't deny that there has been a flip switched in my brain that I'm not totally on board with ("OMG, mom, these baby shoes are sooooooooooooo cute. I want to buy them sooooo badly."), I recently had a breakthrough about one of the reasons why this baby lust has hit me so hard.
I just want someone to boss around.
I mean, if you know me then you know I am most in my element when I'm bossing others around. I love it. If I had a kid, then I'd have my own little minion to do whatever I want, go wherever I want, wear whatever I want.
Power trip much? Am I going to be a bad mom? Or worse - am I going to be a DANCE MOM?
So I've been thinking about it. And I'm pretty sure the only real solution is for me to get a dog.
*Except the little boy who screamed "I hate you Miss Rachel" and hid under his family's coffee table when I came to babysit one time, which was coincidentally also the last time. He was the devil.