Babies don’t usually kill you. However, the only reason a baby doesn’t kill you is because it can’t. If it could, it would.

“They’re just babies!” So am I. Turns out, I am the more whiny baby, which makes this my territory. It can either leave, or die.

“They’re incredibly important and useful!” So is a neurosurgeon. If one walked into my backyard and started crying and shitting their pants, I’d rock their shit, too.

“They’re just little people living their life.” Me too, homie. And part of the human life experience is running the fades of anything that annoys us.

“The chemicals on your skin confuse it!” See the earlier neurosurgeon example. I don’t care if I’m wearing Eau De Daycare #7, you start acting like a baby in my presence, it’s on.

I offer the same rule to all babies, big or small: You wanna hang out near me, cool. You start crying and pissing yourself near me, you die. I don’t care if you’re my baby, someone else’s baby, or two babies in a coat.