Sherman was carrying Rey (the cat), announced that she was his baby, and immediately began considering the virtues of yeeting his baby. I told him “Don’t yeet your baby!!”
(“Yeet”, for the Olds, is the young people’s slang originating in the AAVE dialect, for throwing something, especially something worthless like trash; if you’re interested in the origins of the popularity of this term may I refer you to this vine, language warning).
This of course, reminded Kyle and I of the infamous “Don’t Shake Your Baby” videos they show impressionable and exhausted parents at the hospital before you take your
egg brain real life human baby home. They’re hoping by traumatizing parents they can avoid traumatizing babies; one of the few instances of replacement trauma I find acceptable.
“Despite how you may feel at 3am after 72 hours of straight sleep deprivation, do not, under any circumstances, yeet your baby.”
“Even if your baby has been screaming for two hours straight, do not yeet her. Set her down, and take a calming walk around your apartment to the unavoidable soundtrack of human agony.”
“Even when you smell like spoiled milk, time is meaningless, and all that awaits you is the endless maw of a hungry mouth transferring nutrition into poopsplosions in striking repetition, do not yeet your baby.”
“Whatever you do, do not yeet your baby.”
***This has been a public service announcement, courtesy of Sherman, and the much more sobering followup conversation about what actually happens if you shake a baby.