Repost from my old blog Secret Sunday:
My name is Samantha and I have no affinity with children. You may now stone me to death.
This is true about 95% of the time. The remaining five being children in the family like my two adorably mischievous monkeys that are my brothers. Firstly because I love them and they love me so there is already a fundamental emotion propelling us together. Second of all while being away means I do not spend the regular amount of time someone would usually spend with their siblings, it is still more than I would with any other random kid. So familiarity and some semblance of a routine, I am close to them and I have a vague idea about their likes, dislikes and they do of me too.
Hanging out with other kids transports me back to an episode of Lizzy Macguire where I am Lizzy and the said children are the popular group. What I say or do seems to be of no consequence to them and because they are so gosh darn cute I am automatically proven the villain and ostracised. Of the billion and one possibilities, I have narrowed them down to three reasons as to why I generally have no idea what I am doing when I am around children aged 0 – 12.
1. I don’t know cool slang
I absolutely cannot baby talk. Even when speaking to my brothers I usually speak to them as I would to a friend, someone of equal age and intelligence to myself. It is not a conscious or subconscious effort to be this way, I simply just have no idea how to dumb conversation down to their level without sounding patronising and mean. Cue lost in translation moment here, babies and I just don’t speak the same language.
2. I don’t know how to entertain
I have tried in the past peek-a-boo games where the unimpressed baby leaves me flailing hopelessly and wondering where I went wrong in the course of my education that I cannot make a six month old laugh. Another tactic I also tried was tickling to which said baby gave the equivalent look of having just been sexually harassed. I’m sure this can be rectified once they develop the understanding and the stomach for my terrible jokes though. Knock-knock?
3. I (apparently) am oblivious
While I can thankfully say I have never dropped a baby, I once very nearly sat on one. To this day I swear on my own child-free zone grave that the baby was not there when I last looked and probably materialised in the very moment I was about to park my behind on that chair, just to get me in trouble with the rest of the human race.
So hats off to all parents especially my parents who probably had the most disinterested bitch-faced apparating baby of all to deal with. And a big fat good luck to my kids who will have the most socially awkward mother of all.