Dinner and irony

Tonight Rebel Baby is staying up late because Mummy and Daddy have had enough of being responsible parents that attempt to follow a routine. Instead, they are bundling the baby into the back of a car and going out for dinner, hoping she will just have a nap somewhere quiet and forget about being a demanding little stroppet for one evening.

RB’s life is full of baby-adoring relatives who fuss and swoon over her on an all-too-regular basis. Lucky little RB is never without a lap to sit on or hair to pull… sometimes her fans even wait in line for a cuddle. She is quite used to being the centre of attention and quite accustomed to surprising and delighting all those whom she graces with her presence. Such is a baby’s prerogative. All of this is normal to her.

But this evening, RB has met her match. Uncle I-dont’-do-babies is here. Uncle I-don’t-do-babies likes beer and music, and peace and quiet, and clothes without sick on them. Uncle I-don’t-do-babies is like no one RB has ever met in her life… he does not squeal and jump and tickle and squeeze her, he does not run to the car and grab her from Mummy’s arms and throw her in the air and rush to find her toys. No, he regards her from a safe distance with a knowing nod, sips his beer, and converses with Daddy about manly things like cars and technology.

This makes Uncle IDDB completely irresistible to Rebel Baby. He is a fascinating enigma she must crack, mysterious and perplexing in equal measures.

The full repertoire of baby techniques are employed: squealing, giggling, flapping, wriggling, reaching, grabbing, singing, dancing, full-blown yelling and foot-stamping… all to get his attention. From time to time, Uncle IDDB might acknowledge the small one’s efforts with a smile or a nod betwixt sips of beer which, far from satisfying her curiosity, only fuel her obsession.

After a lovely meal and successful evening, it is late at night when Mummy and Daddy rouse The Baby, who is furious at being so rudely awoken, to embark on their journey home.  Ironically and despite her foul mood, Uncle I-don’t-do-babies is the only one who gets a smile and a high-five on the way out of the door.

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