She May Need That Skill When The Zombies Arrive

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.

He

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.

Just sitting on the baby until she hatches into something cooler.

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.

Only nine more fingers to go Mama!

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.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on LateEnough.com, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents an 2 elementary age children, 4 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

30 thoughts on “She May Need That Skill When The Zombies Arrive

  1. So funny!!!!! Tony G- I’ve heard that story so many times growing up! I think that was more scarring for our parents than you or Tony G!

  2. Totally off subject BUT how do you get N’s hair to stay out of her eyes? It is driving me nuts that DD won’t leave any kind of clips in her hair. She finds them and tries to put them back in…unsuccessfully. She tries to hide the evidence by attempting to eat the clips – and while the thought of having to call your hubs and explain this to him so he can tell me to go to the ER or wait for it to come out the other end sounds like fun – we just let her hair fall in her face to avoid the embarrassment of that phone call.

    My mother has started putting hair gel in there – poor little 15 month old female version of Hitler is what she produces.

    Thoughts, ideas, help?

    1. My N also enjoys taking the hair clips out and then demanding that I put them back in. The only thing that I can think of? We don’t bath her daily. And sometimes it’s because Dr. SPF puts sunscreen in there.

  3. Love the photo of your son in the doll stroller. My older daughter used to push my younger daughter around the house endlessly in a doll stroller much like that one. Until the younger daughter’s butt fell through the bottom of the stroller one day.

    A little duct tape? And it was now a dog stroller. Our dog was very very patient with our children.

    1. Thanks! My son’s butt drags on the ground. Which is why he now just sits there.

      And my dog is 55 pounds and tall. I think that E would have a better shot with the cats. And that’s not saying much at all. Cats are wily.

  4. “Just sitting on the baby until she hatches into something cooler.”

    Brilliant. I’m going to start sitting on stuff I wish would change and see what happens. My hunch is that I will break things. But I suppose I won’t know for sure until I try.

  5. I bought my first son a doll. My second son also plays with it. Mostly by playing I mean feed. That’s how my boys relate. Food.

  6. At least your baby isn’t eating random piles of brown curdy stuff that he found on the floor in Target. (Like my Diego did yesterday and then decided whatever it was was gross and not food, after which he then attempted to disinfect his tongue on my sweater. Sigh.) That might be worse than the desire to eat baby doll heads. Maybe.

  7. We have a baby doll like that, but one of its cute little blue eyes is missing. Freaks. Me. Out. She must be a zombie baby-doll spy, sent here to recruit small children to the Zombie cause. Yes?

  8. Glad the book was a laugh… I saw it and thought of y’all immediately. Zombie exercise, an interesting concept. Hmm. She is the cutest zombie-inclined baby, though!

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