Adam Chapman

The Apple Of My Eye

As a man in my mid 20s hurtling through the remainder of my youth, I’m at the stage of life where many people of a similar age are starting to do grown up things like getting a mortgage, buying a car on finance or more prominently…bringing new life into the world. 

Having a kid is a life changing experience. Whether planned as the start of a family or as the result of a boozy one night stand, you can’t deny that suddenly having to look after what is essentially a crying, pooping blob (for the first 18 years at least) throws a spanner in the works for a care free lifestyle. 

Of course with all the work that goes into raising a child, all the money you invest in them and after all the sleepless nights you’re going think the world of them.

Call this a delusion bought on by an ever increasing amount of stress or the results of the reintroduction of alcohol into your life after 9 months dry but isn’t it darn bloody lucky that each and every person that has a child just so happens to have been blessed with the cutest kid out there?  

I’ve seen this a lot with new parents who are blindsided as to the cuteness of their child. Their little bundle of joy is a lot higher on the cuteness scale than the other baby their mate just had. Their baby is the best baby out there and there’s no debate allowed. Somehow they struck gold in what is purely a game of chance. 

Babies are hit and miss by nature. They’re a randomised mixing of genes that can either result in an angelic offspring or like something that wouldn’t look out of place hanging out in Shrek’s swamp. There’s no way to 100% guarantee that the best genes are going to be passed down.

You could have the two most flawless people in the world make a kid and it could still come out with the worst of both aforementioned flawless parents.

Put it this way, take two works of art, say Van Gogh’s Starry night and Jackson Pollock’s No. 5, 1948. Individually these pieces have artistic merit, both iconic works of the creative brain. Mix them together however and the resulting piece would be an absolute clusterfuck. 

You see this the other way as well, two parents who are possibly related to each other but definitely related to those things from The Hills Have Eyes somehow create a child that goes onto become a model in later life. It doesn’t make sense.  

I don’t get it, not sure many people do, but I’m sure we’ve all been in a situation where you’re questioning how the hell that person is the mix of these two other people. 

The thing is, with parents, the results don’t matter, their kid is the best, there’s no debate, they got an A* in child creation and everyone else failed the class. 

Of course, before you say “Just wait until you have a kid, you’ll be exactly the same”, I know I will be, there’s no doubt about it I just wanna know why this happens. Is there a chemical reaction in the brain that starts to obscure your judgement? Are some parents living in denial? I guess I won’t know until I myself am visited by the stork who drops off a little version of me to raise. 

So why have I suddenly felt compelled to write about babies? Well let me explain. 

To the readers of this piece I ask, have you ever been in a situation where you say that’s a weird looking baby or something even slightly negative about a kid and someone goes pale in the face, lets out an audible gasp and claims “You can’t say that!”? I’m sure you have.

I once said that someone’s kid looked like a 45-year-old bloke called Baz who hangs about outside that dodgy pub in town and my god the backlash I received was as if I had slapped someone’s Nan. Of course, I didn’t say this to the parent’s face I’m not actively looking to get hit. 

But why is this so socially unacceptable? Saying someone’s baby looks a bit strange isn’t an attack on the parents, see paragraphs 6,7,8 & 9 of this here article and you’ll see it’s just a game of chance. You wouldn’t get insulted if someone made a comment about you not winning the lottery and having a kid that doesn’t look like some sort of alien or Winston Churchill probably has similar odds. It’s 2019, it’s time for us to stop living in denial and admit that sometimes babies look a bit weird.