Baby Got Black

Yesterday, I almost stole a black baby from a city bus. Well, technically I didn’t almost steal him. Nor was he really a baby, per se. He had to be pushing two. Possibly two and a half. I digress. Regardless, he was quite possibly the most remarkably adorable child I have ever seen. If you know me, that’s saying a lot. For me, spending time with most babies is akin to allowing wild dogs to gnaw at my limbs while I’m forced to watch repeats of Jersey Shore. But here was this child, whose mom gave new definition to the word “B-I-A-T-C-H,” waving his hands and composing songs about his pluggie and other passengers, effectively making my 17-minute commute all worthwhile. He even tried to get off the bus with me, to which the driver replied, “She don’t want you.” It was the single most heartbreaking moment of my life. Unless of course you count that time they discontinued the all-banana Tootsie Roll Pop.