Babies: Not Pets, But Tiny Drunk Ninjas.

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Remember the time before your first baby arrived and you thought it was going to be like a pet. And You were like, “I got this. I’ve fed a goldfish. I’ve walked a dog. I’ve ignored a cat. I’m ready.”

But babies are not pets. Pets don’t file complaints. Babies do. Loudly. At 3 a.m. 

You give a dog food and love, it’s happy. You give a baby food and love, it’s like, “Cool. Now explain gravity. And also, why is the moon following us?”

A dog sees you naked and doesn’t care. A baby sees you naked and starts crying. Like, “I didn’t sign up for this. Put some pants on, Dad.”

Pets sleep when they’re tired. Babies sleep when you’re about to do something important. Like blink.

I tried to swaddle my baby like a burrito. He broke out like a ninja. I was like, “You’re six days old. How do you know jiu-jitsu?”

Babies are like tiny drunk people. They cry, they wobble, they throw up, and they don’t remember any of it. Except they don’t pay rent. Or say thank you. Or bring you chips.

So yes, babies aren’t pets. They’re tiny humans with big demands and zero chill. But they’re also the only people who think peekaboo is high art. And you know what? that’s kind of beautiful.

I just wish they came with a mute button. Or at least a user manual written by someone who’s slept in the last decade.

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