The other day my husband had lunch with a colleague of his that he hadn’t talked to in a while. This colleague and his wife had been trying for a very long time to start a family, and this summer they were blessed with the birth of a beautiful baby girl. At least I assume she’s beautiful. Here’s what happened when I tried to find out:
My husband: “So I had lunch with Colleague today.”
Me: “Oh, fun. How’s he doing?”
My husband: “He’s doing well.”
Me: “And how’s the baby?”
My husband: “I don’t know.”
Me: “Didn’t you guys talk about the baby?”
My husband: “Nope.”
Me: “Well, what did you talk about?”
My husband: “The possibility of downloading yourself into a machine analog, and if you did then would you still be human or would you be a cyborg, the heat death of the universe, and a little bit of politics.”
Of course, silly me. WHAT WAS I THINKING?
From the perspective of the male engineer, there’s very little material for conversation on the subject of babies. Even kittens provide more fodder for talk, such as “It ate our good luck plant and then threw up in my wife’s new shoes.” But what can you say about a baby that’s even mildly fascinating? “She poops three times a day.” “Yep they do that.” “Stinks something awful.” “Yep.” “So what if the Republicans had a Cyborg run against Trump?” “Might be their only chance at getting rid of him.” “Yep”