Strolling

Commercial Drive was quiet, dark and damp as I walked my way home. I hoped the lone pair of headlights driving past would slow so the sound of its puttering engine could cut the silence for a little longer. When I turned off onto my street I saw it––an empty baby stroller in the middle of the sidewalk, no baby or parent in sight. This should generally be an eerie omen but I took it as inspiring.

What if that baby was just fed up with being a babbling idiot, spoon-fed the pablum of the masses, and had decided to pick itself up by it’s OshKosh B’Gosh booty straps, walk out of that stroller and grow up? Maybe that baby just took initiative? It’s not that hard to form the vowels and consonants needed to call a cab for you and your mother––I can do it. And I probably could’ve done it sooner if I wasn’t held back by the societal confines we place on babies––all the oohing and awing and foam covers on coffee table corners. I spilled beer on the sidewalk while applauding the baby for its courage to overcome. I was imagining it applying online for a job as a software engineer at Hootsuite when the other beer in my pocket overturned, soaking the front of my pants.