My 15 month old daughter, N, picks up the baby doll we bought when my son was her age. I bought it in defiance of standards and expectations for boys. I bought it as proof that boys could nurture. I bought it so when his future partner remarks that he’s good with children I CAN TAKE CREDIT. And then I bought a matching pink stroller.
My son had his moments with his baby doll.
But he rarely sought the baby out. Instead I would think: Time to make E a good Daddy. Time to make me a good feminist Mama. And out the doll and the encouragement would come. And the stroller? Well, this is what he does with it today.
But yesterday my daughter spies the baby and picks her up. And I nervously think: Maybe there is something innate in women. Maybe we are more nurturing. Drawn to tiny babies.
And I watch her lean in to the babies little plastic head.
And I think: Aw, she’s giving the baby a kiss. That’s so … wait… wait… no… no… She’s eating her. She’s officially eating the baby’s face.
And for the rest of the day, she gnaws on the baby.
I have a zombie-inclined daughter. With an innate urge to eat people.
While the rest of the family is in preparations for the zombie apocalypse, N? Well, she’s preparing to fit in.
My friend, MK, sends me a book after reading of our zombie preparations: How to Speak Zombie: A Guide for the Living. Which I don’t doubt will now be N’s favorite bedtime reading. It comes with recorded pronunciations for phrases such as: BBBhhrrruuahhHHuuRRHhhhh. Which translates to: Bro, spot me. In case you hit up the gym with some zombie friends. Making the idea of the zombie apocalypse even more horrific for me. Because it may include working out.
After dinner, N abandons the half-eaten baby in the dining room. I’m justifiably relieved that we aren’t having anymore babies. Because zombie-inclined children are NOT easy to explain to CPS.
Although it explains Tony G. (I actually remember his last name but I’m protecting his family from his terrible secret.) Tony G bit me in preschool. And was expelled. We all thought he was destined for a life a crime. It turns out that was me. He was merely zombie-inclined and someone who will fit in A LOT better during the zombie apocalypse than us.
Tony G, if you are reading this, write me. You’re now N’s zombie emergency contact. Oh and sorry about getting you expelled.