Plastic babies

Scenic lookout at Reeds Lake: East Grand Rapids

Last night was parenting class. Even though we don’t yet know who we’re going to be parenting. Realistically, neither did the pregnant women in our class. Who knows what the kid will be like when he/she emerges into the world?

Hopefully nothing like the scary plastic, rubbery babies they had laid out on the table in front of us.

One baby per couple. With all the requisite parts and pieces. Even a bit of a suspense when you removed the diaper as to what sex the baby would be. I was having fun with the experience — washing the baby, shampooing the hair, swaddling the rubbery bundle of joy in a blanket. That is, until I took a good look at the child’s face.

Staring back at me as I cradled the infant in the crook of my arm was a frightening, half-lidded gaze that really creeped me out. The eyes weren’t open. But they weren’t closed either. They were almost lizard-like. It, really a he from what our diaper defrocking established, seemed almost possessed as it lay motionless while the nurse instructed us on the upcoming joys of parenthood (rectal thermometers, baby wipes, cloth vs. disposable and all the rest). Like it was looking into the depths of my scared little soul.

After that moment, I happily handed the baby over to Scott and let him share the love with the evil demon. I just hope that’s not some creepy precursor to what real life is going to be like.