Poosey Digest: Rent a baby

Greetings from Poosey.

Just a suggestion. When spring hits but your springs are wearing out, your bounce has become a dribble, and your whoopee has boiled down to a single whoop, then go out and rent a baby.

I’m not sure how many retail outlets actually offer this rent-a-toddler service, but I’ll bet that if there’s a buck to be made then Wal-Mart and Amazon will find a way to deliver the rug rats to your door with one day shipping. Toddlers don’t do so well if they have to spend more than a day in a FedEx truck.

The reason for such an audacious scheme? Anyone who’s had a new arrival plopped down in the middle of his family casserole knows how the addition of a single infant can completely change the tone of even the most staid and somber families. Uncles who once sat in the Thanksgiving grouch corner counting the hours until his wife allowed the pair to escape suddenly become slightly deranged idiots galloping around the coffee table acting as a pony for the new arrival. Aunts who could barely tolerate the presence of other people’s children become an ever-flowing fountain of gifts and infant doo-dads that cannot possibly be packed into the parents’ car for the trip home. Previously disinterested cousins who have always regarded family gatherings to be akin to yearly rectal exams now sit cross-legged on the floor with Play Dough dangling from each nostril, doing their best imitation of a deranged walrus. And the biggest change is when the caterpillar of an aging man suddenly enters the childish chrysalis stage and emerges as a colorfully energized pushover of a butterfly who can be manipulated by the giggle of a grandbaby on his lap.

There’s nothing like a lively little one or two or three-year-old to suddenly turn the most conservative of aging families into full-blown goofballs as they discover a fountain of youthfulness that Ponce de Leon would have admired. I’ve seen bankers go bonkers and bishops go barmy when a new baby is born into a family. Inhibitions fly out the window as wieners and peanut butter suddenly becomes everyone’s favorite food and even the most reticent old granny can be persuaded to drink from a Sippy cup.

My husband Herb was one of those aforementioned curmudgeons who considered children as a necessary inconvenience allowing noisy midgets to make their way to adulthood …until he got his own great-niece. We’d often drive home from family gatherings with Herbie complaining about the way our kin’s kids behaved and suggesting that we not visit them again until the children were old enough to vote. Then along came little Emma and his world was turned upside-down. It had been years since he was able to sit on the floor then get up again without aid of a nearby armchair or a stick of dynamite. Once Emma climbed up to swing on the lowest branch of our family tree Herb lost his arthritis, his rheumatism and his mind in one fell swoop.

Last week we visited Emma’s mother and daddy but when we arrived the little girl was taking her nap. You’d have thought someone had stolen Herb’s prized puppy as he sat in their sofa with a hang-dog expression. What was left of his hearing was trained toward Emma’s bedroom for any sound of his little buddy waking. I’ve seen children anticipate the coming of Santa Claus with less anxiety.

So, it goes without saying that the addition of a toddler to a family mix adds a spice that no miracle cure or lottery win could ever equal. There’s much to be said about the new life it gives you to roll around on the floor with a little rascal who knows nothing of global warming, the threat of nuclear war, fake news, gun violence, or whether her Facebook account has been hacked. It’s refreshing to have a little Emma playfully slap you on the nose without a thought of what breaking news was causing CNN’s Wolf Blitzer to hyperventilate or Fox’s Sean Hannity to spit venom at the screen. A two-year-old knows little of conflict and greed. The world is a pretty nice place as long as the peanut butter jar isn’t empty.

As I think further on this scheme I doubt that there would be many young parents willing to rent out their little ones, even for short periods of time and in real emergencies, but the thought is a pleasant one to ponder. Something along the lines of “unless you become as a child.”

You ever ’round Poosey, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.