Baby, Please

I awoke to a young cutie in my apartment.

It certainly was not the sort of thing I expected. It had been a late night, and I didn't remember going to sleep. Now sunlight was barely dripping in from behind the blinds. She smiled at me.

"Hi," I said.

She hardly spoke at all as I stumbled sleepily around the room, picking up clothes and garbage. She looked at me expectantly, her eyelids heavy. Then she cried. I must have disappointed her somehow.

"Shh," I said. "There there."

I wiped her tears with a white cloth. She spit on me.

"Now, there's no need for that," I said gently, wiping myself.

She was a mess. For whatever reason, she crawled around and babbled incoherently.

"Get a hold of yourself," I suggested, but I knew she wouldn't understand.

I sat on the floor watching. Then she started crawling all over me.

"Baby, please," I protested, but it was no use. She would do what pleased her.

That's what babies do.