I love babies, don’t get me wrong. I especially love my friend Tanya’s baby, the adorable, hilarious, affable and engaging Alexander. Tanya and the year-old Alexander are travelling right now with me and my 14-year-old son. Let’s just say I’d forgotten the terrible demons that possess an otherwise good-natured baby when he’s suddenly out of his daily routine.

For those pondering forgoing a condom and opting for the old “pulling out” method of birth control, you might want to consider this: even the most darling baby on the planet will, at some point, become the devil. Dear Alexander is drunk on fun — shopping, museums, car rides, swimming in the hotel swimming pool, climbing back and forth, back and forth, for hours on end from the double bed onto the cot onto the other double bed. It’s Baby Nirvana. Unfortunately, he’s having so much fun that he no longer wants to sleep. And so, when exhausted yet steadfastly refusing to sleep, he is breaking out into maniacal angry shrieks and deranged behaviour and cannot be consoled. 

I took mentalcase Alexander off his mother’s exhausted hands last night, strapping the maniac into his stroller and out into the hotel hallway and rocking him back and forth for about an hour until he finally passed out. I returned to the room and gingerly put him into bed with his mother. There was peace for about an hour or so. And then, every hour — his mother insists it was every two hours, but, you know, she also taught us how to yell “bad boy!!” in Spanish at him — Satan erupted into the angry shrieks for a minute or two each time, rousing all of us out of deep, baby-induced sleeps.

Today he was on an uncharacteristically short fuse and quick to freak out if we took a second too long, for example, to get him out of his car seat once the car stopped. This is astonishingly odd behaviour for him, and his mother and I are so stunned we have taken to bitterly cursing his cute little ass under our breath.

 Tonight, when his mother went to the drug store for supplies, Satan had another half-hour full-fledged freakout that required me to rock him to sleep for a half hour in the bathroom with the lights out because it was the quietest, darkest place to go. He fought me valiantly for the first 15 minutes; I had to physically restrain his arms and legs from kicking and smacking me. Finally, as I sang the same lullabye over and over again while rocking his hyperactive ass, he went to sleep. That was an hour ago. Guess who’s up and at ’em again, rolling around like a drunken, giddy midget?

Babies: They’re not all fun and games sometimes. Even perfect ones like Alexander. So ponder that while opting to go bareback!

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