Even though my husband has been entertaining the idea of having kiddos long before I gave in, it was merely a small infection, a constant low grade baby fever. It had not taken over his brain and body as a form of Baby Rabies up until a few days ago. We went out for lunch at Corner Bakery and happened to be very near a Babies R Us. Since I am an unemployed empty incubator with nothing to do but window shop for things we do not have yet (house, baby), I suggested we pop in and check out the strollers. He obliged, and within minutes of stepping through those purple front doors, we were emerged in a world of binkies, bottles, Bumbos ad Boppies. (How the fuck did our parents ever even THINK about raising us without this plethora of crap.)
First stop – strollers – an unhealthy obsession. So unhealthy, in fact, that the Rabies has us thinking that we may actually NEED that $750 Bugaboo Frog. We quickly leave the stroller section, hoping to regain our better judgement. On our way from strollers to cribs, we pass by the slings. Prior to the Rabies, I always associated slings with hippie parents – not that that’s a bad thing. I just always thought you had to be the type of mom who made her own organic baby food from the organic vegetables she grew in her own garden to wear one, and I have no time or desire for that shit. However, I found some adorable Hotslings in very stylish patterns, and I like the idea of baby as accessory (wonder how many people I pissed off with that statement). My husband has always made fun of dads wearing front loaders like the Baby Bjorn, and has vowed up and down that he will never suffer the same uncool fate – that is UNTIL he saw the JEEP branded baby front loader! Yes, my husband is a labeling whore.
I knew he was fully infected with the Rabies when he actually took it off the armless torso and tried it on. He then proceeded to run up and down the aisles with it, perhaps practicing the day he and baby will make their long awaited appearance as wide receiver (and baby) for the St. Louis Rams. He told me, “I’ve got to have one of these. It will match the Jeep.” He was quiet for a little bit after that as we browsed through the cribs, then turned to me as we reached the Jenny Linds and said in the sweetest most serious tone, “You’ve given it to me…..I have Baby Rabies.” I about lost it right there!
After analyzing this experience, I’ve come up with the following theory on how to infect your partner (assuming they are male) with Baby Rabies. First thing to remember is they don’t give a fuck about clothes or crib bedding, so if you begin inundating them with trips to Baby GAP and Pottery Barn Kids, you’re likely to loose your audience early. You must start them out with the gadgets. I find strollers to be a great place to start. Show them the ones that have shocks, handlebar brakes, rubber tires, the closer the stroller resembles a car the better. Then show them car seats. Encourage them to show you what seat would look best in their car. Keep it all about the gadgets and gizmos (minus the breast-pump – I’m pretty sure that will freak them the hell out). I’m interested in whether or not this works with anyone else, so please let me know.