That baby is drunk

“THAT BABY IS DRUNK!” yells the H-Bomb. “THAT BABY IS DRUNK!”

The baby in question is not drunk, not that I can tell, but her parents clearly think my child is drunk. I am beginning to wonder as well.

The baby is sitting near us at Friendly’s. She is a sweet little redhead, about eight months old, in a pink jumpsuit. Everyone is now turning to stare at the baby and her parents. They, in turn, are staring at me.

“Shhhhhh,” I say. “That baby is not drunk. She’s a very, very nice baby and she is completely sober.” I smile ingratiatingly at the parents and resist the urge to make the swirly “coo-coo” sign by my right ear.

“NO! THAT BABY IS DRUNK! SHE HAS AN EARRING!”

The baby does have an earring. A little diamond stud. The parents glare at me. I smile again, apologetically, and try futilely to hush the H-Bomb.

“Why would you say that? That’s not nice, honey,” I whisper. “She’s a very nice baby with an earring. Shhh.”

Sophie cracks up, a little late in the game. She turns around to stare at the baby.

“Don’t. DON’T,” I say.

“The baby is drunk,” says Sophie, just for kicks. She cracks up again. Which sets off the H-Bomb again:

“SHE’S DRUNK AND SHE HAS AN EARRING! SHE’S DRUNK AND SHE HAS AN EARRING!”

My mother loses it. She begins cracking up, shoulders shaking, head shaking.

I lose it. Now I am cracking up. We are a booth of sinners at Friendly’s. No one talks about the times when your kid does something so appalling you start laughing and can’t stop.

Non-drunk drunk baby and her family bundle up and flee, glaring, never to visit Friendly’s again.

What’s the worst thing your kid’s ever said that left you helplessly laughing?

I am still laughing. I can’t even look at a baby now. Which is probably a good thing, because they were starting to look cute again.