Red and I were at brunch (a meal she is quite fond of) with friends on Sunday. I am not sure why brunch tends to happen only on Sunday nor why you are expected to forgo breakfast and/or lunch to partake of this meal. How awesome would it be to wake up on a Thursday, have breakfast, head off to work, slip out of work and have brunch, then a few hours later pop back out to grab lunch? Though this would almost surely require an afternoon nap, which only ups the awesome ante.
But this post is not about my Hobbitesque dining fantasies. This is about that presumptuous baby that showed up at the other table.
The fact that a baby showed up to brunch is not surprising at all. They basically get to lead the aforementioned fantasy lives of multiple daily meals and discretionary sleep patterns, so brunch ain't no big thing for them. The general clientele seemed to follow the pattern of older sibling+spouse+2 kids under 5 (all awake since 6AM) meeting younger sibling + guy getting roped into relationship advancing casual dining with family/zaftig roommate who went out drinking with younger sibling till 3AM last night/best friend younger sibling has a hopeless crush on despite the fact that he is openly homosexual (this pair has been awake for 20 minutes and can't wait until the Bloody Mary's and mimosas get to the table.) Also elderly couples shouting at each other.
No, the thing that steamed my asparagus was the audacity this infant had showing up in a sweater with leather patches on the elbows! Come on, baby! Who are you kidding? It's not like you've had that sweater so long that it has holes worn in it. Judging by your ability to hold your head and torso up and focus on nearby objects, I am guessing you have had that sweater for 8 months tops. And even crappy Old Navy gear will hold out that long. Giving the benifit of the doubt and assuming these patches were not to cover holes, but there as a preventive measure against wear from heavy use, I still have to laugh. Your metabolism is through the roof, baby. You will outgrow that thing in a month. Unless your parents have you crawling around in a living room carpeted with 80 grit sandpaper, I am guessing you're safe.
This leads to the only remaining conclusion - this baby is a poseur putting on the airs of a circa 1950's Ivy League college professor. Where are your pipe and reading glasses, baby? That would be too over the top, would it? Oh, but the leather elbow thing plays. Yes, you're absolutely right...in baby-fantasy world!
You don't fool me, baby. Not for one minute. I see straight through your little snap-crotch-corduroy-trouser charade.