The following is based on an actual conversation about eating babies. Don’t act like you haven’t had one of those. Jeff has questions. I have facts. Let’s see where this goes—I’ll let him start.
JEFF: Seriously, what the hell is it with you people and eating babies?
Look, I like eating and I like kids. I have both children and food in my house almost every day. But there is something about kids, particularly those with an appreciable percentage of baby fat, that makes some of you named Kim say things like “They are so cute I just want to EAT THEM UP.” And I believe I speak for most readers when I say: What the hell is wrong with you people?
KIM: Kids are delicious! Their sunshiney faces are like dessert. BABY, GIT IN MAH BELLEH.
J: See, this is what I’m talking about! THAT IS NOT A NATURAL IMPULSE ABOUT CUTE THINGS. Like, I think baby koalas are cute, but I don’t look at them and think “I NEED THAT THING IN A SANDWICH.”
K: Yes, cute animal = cuddles. But not koalas. I hear they are violent. Even more so than toddlers. So I only eat toddlers (the cute ones), and other sparkly-eyed young humans.
J: It’s not like there aren’t other ways to react to cute babies. Hugging! You could hug them! Totally acceptable. Making googly eyes and talking like a psychopath = completely normal, for some reason! Wanting to poke their bellies = well OF COURSE you poke strange babies’ bellies, you’re not made of stone. But regarding them like Wile E. Coyote does the Road Runner? This is not a behavioral pattern that translates to other positive attributes, people. Watch:
Person 1: “What a lovely sundress.”
You: “I WOULD LIKE TO EAT THAT SUN DRESS.”
Person 2: “Slick Camaro, Jim.”
You: “I WILL PUT THAT ENTIRE CHEVROLET IN MY MOUTH.”
Person 3: “That’s a pretty stocked-looking pen of freshly slopped mug hogs you got there, Arthur.”
Arthur: (ties bib around neck)
K: Firstly, I do not wear (or eat) sundresses.
Secondly, Mister I-Make-Up-Unrealistic-Examples, I feel like you’re knocking my fantasy 1990 IROC Z. Not cool, man.
And, finally, it bothers me that I need to explain that hog pens are in no way endearing. You are completely missing my baby-face-eating point. How does it feel to be a man with so little appetite for love and applelicious preschooler cheeks? How do you even sleep at night?
I think it’s time we explain ourselves, clear this up once and for all. I’d hate to discover I have shared interweb space with a father who can’t stomach the taste of the chubby elbows of his own progeny.
J: What am I, Zeus now? I agree. Here is my entire counter-argument to eating baby faces.
1. It’s eating faces.
2. Faces, as a rule, are not eaten by other people.
3. Even cow faces, and we eat like all the other parts of cows.
4. Kids are not delicious.
5. Unless they’re covered in peanut butter.
6. Even then they’re sort of gamy.
K: [Rolls eyes.]
1. Only cute faces (how are you not catching onto this imperative point?).
2. Rules are meant to be broken.
3. Cow faces are boney. Kids’ faces are like bubble gum wrapped in giggles.
4. My kids’ faces are frequently covered in sugar and therefore delicious.
5. Cute kid face PLUS peanut butter? It’s like I’m Gretel and you are showing me a candy house in Lollipop Forest.
6. La la la… I’m dancing in my candy house, eating kid chins that melt in my mouth like peanut butter logs. Why are you still talking? Take your dumb cow’s skinny face and get out of my candy house. The exit is through that wall of gum drops.
J: OK, obviously you’ve never been taught how to properly butcher and prepare a cow face.
K: Wait a second. Babies with fat legs get those eaten, too. LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME YOU NEVER BIT YOUR KIDS’ FAT LEGS.
J: See, this makes sense! I can understand eating their legs, because people eat chicken drumsticks. But still, we don’t eat chicken FACES, mostly because of the high beak content.
K: Again, I shake my head in disgust at your blindness. Chicken faces aren’t adorable. Therefore, not edible. Has nothing to do with the beak.
J: Oh, so you’re a food cute-ist now?
K: Yep. Other cute foods = cookies, beans, avocados and baby grapes (seedless).
J: Beans? Beans aren’t cute, they just effing sit there!
K: HOW can you NOT say beans are cute? Look at this:
I didn’t even try hard and that bean makes me want to swaddle it, pop a bonnet on its head, push it in a stroller to the park and nibble on its belly as birds look on in a jealous fervor.
J: PEOPLE GO TO THERAPY FOR TALKING LIKE THIS AND BECAUSE OF THE FACE-EATING IMPULSES. Where does it stop, vampire? The neck? Ears? Hair? When is it ever OK to eat hair?
K: When eating the upmost quadrant of cute baby, I enjoy the faces, mostly cheek. A little neck for dessert, if there’s room. Never hair. Don’t be gross.
J: OK, here’s a fair way to settle this: You go to the mall, and eat a baby’s face. I’ll go to the mall, and NOT eat a baby’s face, and we’ll see which one of us ends up on the Huffington Post. Deal?
K: You have darkness inside of you.
J: You know what I don’t have inside me? Bites of fat baby legs.
K: No wonder you’re so cranky.
J: Hmm, you’re right. I should feast more on the young. Do you drink unicorn blood too? To glean its enriching life-force? I think we all know where THAT leads. #horcrux
K: Don’t need it. I have a belly full of baby face keeping me young.
And that, my friends, is what I call winning the argument.
Please feel free to chime in at any time with your own baby-eating (or non-baby-eating, if you are a heartless creature of the night) experiences. In the meantime, go follow your new second favorite writer, Jeff Vrabel, on his blog and Twitter. He is a what one might call a “successful writer person” because his work has regularly appeared on GQ, Men’s Health, Success, The Washington Post, Time, Billboard and the like, is embarrassingly proud that he holds a Guinness World Record relating to Bruce Springsteen, and is always super funny when not making fun of me.