Enough! Babies, where do you get off? you don’t get to hog everything! Look, just because you’re a baby, that doesn’t mean the whole world has to stop what they’re doing to give you everything you want. No one else is going to say it. Everyone is thinking it, but they’re all going to remain silent and just continue letting you run rampant over their lives. Well not me. I’m here to finally put it out there. Just because you’re small, adorable, and will ultimately die without our constant supervision, you don’t get to have a monopoly on awesome stunts.
I’ve had it up to here (approximately my neck, far higher than ANY baby can reach) with you little mongrels taking the coolest death defying show of dexterity imaginable and just not giving a single shit. Obviously I’m talking about when you wander unsupervised through construction sites. Some people have been working their entire adult lives on this show of acrobatic talent and aren’t even close to mastering it, or so I’ve heard, from other people. So maybe grab a teeny tiny ladder and use it to get over yourself.
You literally waddle from beam to beam, narrowly avoiding wrecking balls and crane hooks like they’re not even there. Then you just casually crawl onto the next steel girder even though it was only lifted into your path seconds ago. The insulting part is you act like the whole thing is no different than a regular ol’ stroll from your crib to the kitchen for a little late night snack. Unappreciative! For some of us that would be a pretty big deal. Our lifelong dream, maybe.
But no, if one of us tries it, we don’t exactly get through without a scratch now do we? We get bonked on the back of the head by a big swinging crane that we just ducked under seconds before cause we didn’t know it swung in a circle. We get a black eye from a plummeting sandwich that was just dropped by a worker inexplicably having his lunch on the highest possible beam. We get our freakin nards crushed because a comically small wrecking ball swings right into them. I’m talking about a wrecking ball so perfectly nards sized that I can only assume it is used to smash one single brick at a time, but this time the brick is our freakin nards.
What happened little baby, your mommy just walked to the other room to answer a call from aunt Samantha on your house’s only corded phone? Oh and let me guess, when she comes back you’ll already have haphazardly landed back in your high chair, back from another construction adventure, and she’ll be none the wiser? Meanwhile, my mom is at my bedside and won’t stop crying because Dr. Palmer said it’ll “be a miracle if I ever walk again.” Whatever! Yeah, get over it mom, don’t you think I should be the one crying here? People that can’t walk can’t exactly pogo anymore either, now can they?
Do you even know where you were or what you were doing, you poopy diapered cretins? No, of course not. You don’t even have object permanence, much less whatever super rad type of permanence you need to recognize a city mandated industrial construction site. So instead you take it for granted. Get over yourselves babies. The show has gotten stale. It’s time for you to stay home and let a new generation go to work.