So, you have a kid now, somehow. We at The DailyER didn’t know you had it in ya. But you pulled it off, and now you have a fleshy thing that looks half like you. So, what do you do with your baby now? How useful are babies? Well, here are the top uses for the infant:
- Paperweight. Any big rock can be a good paperweight. So, a baby that weighs about 30 rocks is bound to be 30 times better as a paperweight for whatever you’re writing. The experience will also give you time to converse with your child, describing to it whatever convoluted plot you’re crafting so that at least you can pass on your corrupted mind to the next generation.
- Paper. If you don’t have a clean sheet of paper, your baby’s bare skin can be an excellent canvas where you can write Mr. Gobbledook’s excellent monologue in permanent marker. The limited space will also force you to be concise in your writing. You may think about conceiving more babies to have more surfaces to work with, but as Edgar Allan Poe said, “What you can write in 13 babies can be achieved with just one.”
- Ego-booster. Whenever you’re feeling down– about your career or whatever– you can always say to yourself, “Heh, at least I’m not as defenseless, as jobless or as clueless as this little baby.” And then you should laugh. Laugh at that sad little creature who’s nothing compared to you. Unfortunately, you’ll only be able to do this until they grow up and inevitably surpass you.
- Movie tester. Whenever you get the chance, show the newborn a movie that you want to know more about. If the baby squeals or giggles, it’s probably a terrible movie. If the baby starts crying or whining, it’s an Academy Award-winner. If the baby starts saying “Gerty, am I really a clone,” then the movie is likely “Moon” with Sam Rockwell.
- Genetic bank. If you’re afraid of losing your golden locks or stark blue eyes throughout the coming centuries, your newborn is an excellent way to pass on those kinds of traits because, well, it’s already carrying them. Of course, you might have to conceive another child if the first one hasn’t stored the traits you want to pass on.
- Statue. It’ll be a shitty statue– it’ll move, make sounds and won’t be made of stone– but it’s the thought that counts. Dinner party guests will understand what you’re trying to convey.
- Excuse to grow up and to start taking on responsibilities in all aspects of your life. It’s a long shot, but you never know what might happen.
- Excuse to never grow up and to act as an infant and assimilate with your child. We don’t know how you’d pull this off– and we might have to call social services within a few weeks– but there’s technically nothing stopping you from trying this out.
- Excuse to grow up, but not quite as much as you hoped, with the guilt forever gnawing at the back of your mind. This is more realistic, really.
- Person who can outgrow you and give you a merciful death when you’re old and sickly. Make sure they know how to hold a pillow firmly.