Don't Gimme No Lines, and Keep Your Hands to Yourself

I like movie lines. I can speak almost entirely in movie lines for hours on end. (It is worth noting that this talent tends to be a blatant impediment to attracting someone who will grant you the type of intimacy typically required to make a baby.) One of my favorites is from “National Lampoon’s Vacation” and is just two words long. While small in stature, this line has become our mantra upon venturing outside our four walls. The quote in a moment, but first the set-up: The Griswold’s family trip to Wally World is crumbling after near-fatal car wrecks, groping Kansas cousins, potential infidelity, teenage drug-use and a bitchy-turned-dead aunt strapped to the roof of the car. Family members suggest to Clark that the best course of action is turning the Family Truckster around and heading back to Chicago. Clark spirals into an obligatory meltdown, as Rusty puts his hand on Clark’s shoulder, asking him if he’d like an aspirin. Clark responds with a wild-eyed, “Don’t touch!!” 

Other than self-indulgently drumming up memories from one of my favorite comedies, what is the point of bringing this up? Glad I asked.  Most parents---especially parents of multiples, who seem to attract every passerby imaginable---have either thought or said those very words.“Don’t touch!”.

 

I don’t know why, but people are always trying to touch our babies. All. The. Time. Yes, they are cute and cuddly, but…umm…like…you know…THEY’RE NOT YOURS!  How do you see a random baby and think it’s perfectly ok to start pawing them like a blouse at Penny’s (not that I’ve ever walked around the women’s section of a department store and touched the cool, soft fabric of a wonderful-smelling garment that will someday adorn the skin of a lovely woman…mmmm….whoa….sorry wrong blog. Where was I?).

Think of anything else you claim as a possession. Would anyone ever go up to it in your presence and just  feel it up without asking first? Hell, I’m reluctant to mess with someone else’s remote control. But for reasons beyond logic, a human being with a brand new immune system is fertile ground for strange fingerprints. I’m barely qualified to hold this baby myself and the only reason I’m allowed to is because I own half of his DNA.

My wife, Jess, succinctly addresses odd human behavior of any kind by simply asking, “Who does that?” Well, Boo, good friggin’ question. Who the hell does that? I’ll tell you: women, that’s who. Not every woman. But so far not one man has reached in for a quick, or not-so quick, touch. For obvious reasons, it just seems creepy for a man to go touch a baby, and we know how it looks. Best just to say, “He’s got a strong jaw,” and move on. But the skeeve-factor isn’t as great with women.

I suppose it has to do with maternal instinct or some such thing. Maybe once you get baby fever, it never leaves. Every now and then you get a flare-up, like herpes. But whatever the reason, ladies of all ages want to do it. At a recent doctor’s visit, a woman approached Jess asking to touch our babies. 

Now, let’s take a look at this scenario: we are at a doctor’s office with twins under two months. So one of us is likely ill. To make matters more bizarre, this dingy freak had a dog with her. A dog. At the doctor’s office! Unless you wear dark glasses and carry a cane, there is no earthly reason for you to bring a dog to the doctor’s office. Unless you’re at a really shitty office that also treats animals. (Probably out of network.)

Come on, just one feel, honey...

You’re a stranger, you’re probably sick, and you have a flea-motel jammed down your parka. “Oh, but the dog’s clean,” she insists. Oh hellz, nah. I don’t care if that mutt shits lilies, there is enough evidence to, at the very-least, suggest that your hygiene is suspect, and you may very-well be a certifiable fruitcake. For all I know that dog has a diaper on and you call him Mr. Wetsy. Sorry, no touchie…lunacy may be contagious.

So, you have to be vigilant. And always on guard. These baby-touchers are out there and they are very devious. They will use sad eyes, guilt, and quivering smiles. They will butter you up with compliments about how “precious” they are. Don’t fall for it! They are soul-stealing vampires disguised as innocent housewives and grandmothers (at least that’s what we’ve convinced ourselves of to fend off feeling like jerk-wads). Look them in the eye, smile pleasantly, and at the top of your lungs bellow, “Don’t touch!”  That will take care of the hand laser-beaming toward your spawn, and pretty much everyone else within earshot.

Or, just stay home and watch movies.