I have six pictures of your “thirteen-month old”, and that’s about four too many. You pass them out at gatherings, send them in the mail, email them to me, send me updates about his website and videos and frankly, it’s a bit much. I like babies. Hell, I love them, but you have succeeded in making your one year old seem obnoxious, and he can’t even talk yet. I cringe when I see you coming, and that just isn’t right. You stress about him not walking, and now you stress about walking. You were a likeable person before this: funny, offbeat. Now that baby is your only topic, and frankly, he just isn’t that interesting. You have siblings and cousins with babies that can still manage to have a decent conversation and even the occasional joke about the ludicrousness of it all, but your baby is an event, a holy grail. I understand it may seem that way to you because he’s your first but Christ, it gets old pretending to care that he produces too much mucus or whatever else absorbs you these days.
Okay, now I can go back to pretending to care because I like you and don’t want to hurt your feelings.