Babies

We spent the past two days babysitting a two-year-old and her three-month-old little sister. And well, I've decided babies are not for me.

Now don't get me wrong (and don't pack your suitcases yet, sweetie), I still want children. I'd just like them to be some 6 months old when I get them (though delivery might be rather painful then, don't you think). The highest thing I see a three-month-old achieving is blowing spit bubbles and having a facial expression between "constipated" and "smiling". I mean, their heads are so huge you'd think they don't have a neck. There's just an enormous head, a diaper and chubby legs. All covered in spit, I might add.
Ok, I'll admit they're sometimes cute. In small doses, when they do something stupid like trying to fit their whole fist into their mouth. But I prefer it when they're a few months older. When they're reaching for their mouth with their *feet*, for instance. Or, god bless, when they start crawling and suckling on the plugs. That's when they get interesting!
Thank god my baby will have two mums... and not just me.

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