Dear Woman That Found A Cute Toddler Walking Around,
Congratulations. You discovered a small person. If I had an award, I would present it to you in due fashion. However, we’re at a library, so there’s not many rewards I could give you that don’t have to be returned within a couple of weeks. Hold on, I’ll check my bag…
…ok, so I’ve got a squashed mandarin, four pens, a stainless-steel water bottle and a book of poems by Yeats, that I’ve been meaning to read since I first bought the bag, perhaps four years ago. You’re very welcome to one of the pens.
But I digress. Perhaps the considered flurry of reactions that came after the discovery of the child had something to do with the maternal feelings ingrained in your genetics, and perhaps the first was justified. But the seventeenth utterance of “Oh my God look at how cute she is” was not wanted nor needed.
Yes, it was a cute child. Most are. I wasn’t. I looked like a walnut. I would encourage you, though, to take the risk, roll the dice, get frisky with someone that you love very much, and hopefully post birds and bees you will find yourself with your own cute child or walnut. Then you could sing to your heart’s content about how cute you think your child is in the comfort of your own home.
Best of luck, and don’t, whatever you do, name your child after a character in a fantasy novel or film. It’s form of childhood cruelty.
Regards,
Q
Matt Querzoli was inspired to write this for obvious reasons. Follow him or his randy publication if you liked the post, or even the bloke himself if this tickled your proverbial pickle.
