Baby As Demon-God Cult Leader
Infant as omnipotent manipulator of all surrounding life forms?
Freud said that to look upon the face of a newborn is to look upon the face of pure evil. What Freud meant is that an infant cares for no other needs but its own. It has no tangible assets or products to offer the world except disposable diapers for our landfills. It is totally inconsiderate of others. Indeed, it is quite blissfully unaware that anything exists except its own belly. But matters psychological pale before matters mystical.
Bear with me on this theory. As of this writing, our beloved, bedeviling daughter is nine days old. I fall more deeply in love with her each time I see her. I wake up in the night and don't begrudge her my loss of sleep. I am devoted, as slavish as any kneeling penitent before the most sacred of altars. My wife is just as devoted, with the added feature of being the one to offer up sacraments of the flesh via her mammary glands.
But are we doing this of our own free will, or are higher (or lower, more sinister) powers at work? Under classic brainwashing technique, the subject is allowed a full complement of eight hours' sleep. However, the sleep is broken into two-hour chunks so that the natural dream cycle is interrupted. This leaves the victim susceptible, disoriented, a pliant putty in the hands of a master shaper.
Then there's the "cute" factor. Nature's survival mechanism. Big, gooey eyes, seal-soft skin, tufty hair, tiny little fingers and toes. Is it any surprise that the stereotypical description of visiting aliens bears a striking resemblance to a human infant? Just whose face is that on Mars, anyway? I surmise that, if viewed from the proper angle, a bit of milk drool would reveal itself on one corner of the geographic formation's lips.
What else short of a cosmic power would force adults to rummage through the contents of baby's diapers, murmuring in approval at the latest bestowings? How great the mind control of a creature that, from across a dark room, can send its disciples shambling forth to do holy service! How awesome the glorious psalm of a long-yearned-for belch! O how great thou art!
The neatest trick is the "thousand faces in an hour" gimmick. Baby runs the gamut: frown, yawn, hiccup, sneer, pucker. And, whoa, she smiled! See that...she approves of our clumsy ministrations, our selfless offerings that are but tiny drops in the extra-absorbent diaper of life! Here is evidence that our love, if not exactly requited, is at least tolerated. No, honey, that wasn't gas making her face stretch into that imitation of glee. That was an authentic smile, for us only.
Is that intestinal discomfort, or are you glad to see me?
Tell me. Please, O Cute and Cuddly One. Or don't. Matters of faith are beyond explanation anyway. You've already made a believer out of me.
--copyright 2000 by Scott Nicholson (Note: This is humor. Contrary to the belief of those who wrote to say I'm an evil, evil man, I do have a sense of humor. You may or may not laugh, but please don't tell me I'm going to roast in the Bad Place. I think such a place, if it exists, is rserved exclusively for those who seek to judge and condemn others. Ha ha.)
Scott Nicholson copyright 2001-03ŠAll rights reserved