Kids and smoke and interesting combinations - Blogmas Day 11

I do have some pretty specific opinions on my talents. I have, however, never felt as if I was in any way outrageously good with children. I mean, they don't start crying when they see me or anything. But that would be bad. I'm actually not so sure about what they'd do – I don't really know that many kids, to be honest. I took a babysitting course once and if I learned something there, it's that babies are heavy and many things can go wrong while you're looking after them, and I have never ever proceeded to offer my babysitting services to anyone.

I'm also not too fond of making faces – it contradicts my natural understanding of aesthetics. So when I tried that with a baby at the station just now (while waiting for the stupid thing for a good 25 minutes) who was looking at me wearing an adorable pink fuzzy hat (the baby was cute, too) and it actually giggled back at me, I was positively surprised. I even waved back at her when she lifted her tiny hand to her face, and it made her laugh again, so that must be a technique, you know, imitating the kid or something like that.

I have the feeling I sound like a weird old hermit who doesn't know that babies are human. I'm nice, I swear. And I'll probably get the whole motherly intuition and face-making routine down, you know, should the need arise one day. So we're good, aren't we?

The girl started crying. Oh, my.

A sequel to the laptop touching teacher: Today, he wanted to show me something I was very well aware of, and almost messed up my file while trying to do so, juggling around with my mouse as if he's never seen one before. I had to really pull myself together in order not to go like “Have you done this before, like, right?”

Random Thought:

Would you ever date a smoker? I'm not sure I would. I wouldn't have the nerve to put up with trying to talk it out of him, 'cause I know how they get when you're listing all the rational reasons they should stop, such as, mhm, let me think, you die, things like that – if I had a penny for every time a smoker said to me “We'll all die anyway”, I'd be buying the nicotine industry. Of course we'll all die, eventually. But we'll certainly not all die a slow, painful death of lung cancer long before we hit our seventies, will we? Anyways, I lost my point; I might, just might put up with a smoker if he was really hot. Gosh that sounded so much more superficial than it did in my head. I'd probably not be with him for long, though, I guess.

Honestly, I would already be put off by the smell, if it was one of these persons who've got it in their clothes, their hair, everywhere. It's not as musky and manly as it sounds, in certain situations.

That wasn't meant to sound that way, either.

Love,

Rosy Smith