2nd
on: when babies date down
So a few times a week I babysit for my beautiful perfect goddaughter Georgia. She is sweet-tempered, cuddly, rarely cries even when teething, and looks like a Botticelli or Rubens painting of cupid. Her interests include reading, long walks, music, and holding hands. She’s 7 months old, so she still has her looks and youthful joie de vivre. In other words, a catch by any standards.
That being said, I’m starting to get really worried that she may have self esteem issues, as evidenced by her taste in men. To put it bluntly, she likes men not of her, ah, class.
This has only really come to light this week, and I’m still wrestling with the implications, ie how to proceed as her spiritual (and otherwise) guide. I play an important role in her life and am not about to let something like this slide unaddressed, as guess who her parents will be pointing fingers at when she drops out of high school to elope with an oxy contin dealer named Butch?
So here’s what happened:
Georgia and I were reading People Magazine, I know it seems like a guilty pleasure, and perhaps a bit of a tawdry pursuit for two such ladies as ourselves, but really we both believe its important to stay in touch with the general populace, we are no snobs. No ivory towers here. Also, she thinks her mom looks like Jennifer Aniston, so we always look for pictures of her. I sometimes get Angelina, sometimes Demi, Georgia cant decide. But I digress.
We’re flipping pages, checking out the “rock star babies” section when I turn a page and Georgia is transfixed. I have never seen her so motionless. She stares down at the shirtless hunk on a beach depicted therein with what I can only describe as adoration. A different way then how she looks at her parents, or me or her nanny, and we know she loves us all….this was like nothing else. She smiled a secret smile, meant only for him, and patted his face gently. Dla dla dla dlalalala she said. I felt dizzy and sick, and the room spun for a moment. I knew what was happening. I’ve felt this way too. I know the signs. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
I sprang into action. I was not about to allow my precious goddaughter to have her first inappropriate relationship on my watch. I swiftly turned the page to a fetching picture of Ginnifer Goodwin, and tried distracting Georgia by loudly asking why her name wasn’t spelled JENNIFER Goodwin. The baby was too smart for me. She firmly swatted away Ms. Goodwin and flipped back to her beloved……DOUG REINHARDT.
Thats right. Paris Hilton’s boyfriend. I admit it dear readers, I gave in. She was so happy, and I thought to myself, you only feel this way for the first time ONCE. I should let her have her crush and be happy. We sat still together. Georgia cooed softly at Doug, patting his face and body with her small hands. She beamed adoringly at him, once in a while glancing up at me for approbation. I forced a smile. I didn’t want her to be scarred by my disapproval. Once you lose their trust then they start hiding things from you, then you catch them stealing cigarettes from your handbag and cutting class.
I don’t know how long we sat like that. I think I blanked out for a while, partially from nerves, partially from trying to remember what Reality TV show Doug Reinhardt was on (turns out it was The Hills, I read the caption while Georgia was drinking a bottle). After a while she fell asleep, said photo crumpled firmly in her dimpled fist. While she slept, I scoured the rest of the magazine looking for a suitable alternative. She’s young and inexperienced, I reasoned. She doesn’t know that there are better men out there. You have your Clooneys or your Penns with their charity work, or I would’ve taken a Clive Owen or Pierce Brosnan for sheer gentlemanly attitude. Jackpot! I found PRINCE HARRY. True, he was pictured exiting a London after-hours club at three AM wearing pink nail polish, but no matter, the boy is royalty. He surely would distract my sweet girl from her folly.
Soon enough, Georgia woke up gurgling sweetly, and after giving her a small snack of milk and pureed fruit, we sat down to finish our magazine. I innocently flipped open People to the exact page where the blue-blooded prince, alumnus of Eton College, if not heir to the throne, damn close, waited for her with painted nails and red eyes. I’m not sure what reaction I’d anticipated, a smile would have been nice, perhaps a casual comment, indifference at worst…. but nothing could have prepared me for the bloodcurdling screech that emanated from the tiny girl. I think the entire building must have heard it. For half an hour I fully expected the apartment door to be broken down by police with allegations of child abuse. She HATED Harry more than I’d ever seen her hate anyone or anything. Smacked him in the face, shredded the page, and threw the People on the floor.
I decided to come clean. Better her mother hear it from me, then to find the photo of Doug Reinhardt torn out of People pasted to the side of Georgia’s crib later, or hidden under her teddy bear. I texted the baby’s mother Judy. She claimed to find the whole matter amusing, but I feel I’m on thin ice. I started hiding the magazines, and have taken to only singing her mozart and verdi arias. We don’t read much anymore, I cant help but feel that I am unable to protect her from her own questionable taste and have therefore decided to limit her exposure to the outside world - at least on my watch. I mean, what if we read Peter Rabbit and she falls for Mr. McGregor? Can you imagine her reaction to Where the Wild Things Are? That one’s off limits permanently. The GOOD guy even dresses up like a monster!
I haven’t come up with a permanent solution yet, but I think my stopgap measures have proved effective. She hasn’t mentioned Doug to me again, but who knows what she’s thinking….sometimes she gets that faraway look in her eye, and my heart trembles.
