The Baby On My Doorstep

Today, I opened the door to take out the recycling. There was a baby on my doorstep.

Not a real baby. Well, wait. It was a real baby, just in a photo. The picture was under the edge of the doormat as if a person placed it there – under the mat enough to keep it from blowing away, but far enough exposed to make sure that it would be seen.

I have a history of doing things to mess with people, so I looked around to see who put the picture there. It seemed like something I’d do to someone else. There was no one around, so I picked the baby up and brought it inside.

When In Doubt, Call.

Sometimes, I call my wife and I can almost hear her thinking “I really should put him in some sort of adult day care program. Maybe someplace with an arts & crafts session and scissors with rounded tips.” Today was one of those times –

“Hey, did you stick a picture of a baby under the doormat?”

“Oma, why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, I really hadn’t moved on to motive yet.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Ok. Thanks, babe. See you at dinner.”

The woman is a saint. But enough about her, let’s talk about this baby.

Come And Get Her

It’s a fairly standard looking kid; cute enough, but then I think they all are. It appears that there is a flower on the side of the baby’s hat, so I’m going out on a limb  and will start to referring to it as a girl.

One of you is going to read this and say “oh, you should have a baby, that’s why it came to your house.” No, it doesn’t mean that and, if you are that someone who thought that, you are not at all funny. I won’t even begin to tell you what my wife’s reaction would be to that idea because I think it is wrong to curse in front of children.

Babies are fine people, and they are welcome to stop by our place as long as they bring along someone who will maintain them and then take them home after a bit. We are older people who are blissfully no longer eligible for entry into the baby sweepstakes.

Still, I feel badly about this baby picture just showing up. Someone is missing it.

If this is your baby, please come get it. It’s not that she’s all that noisy, but at 53, I don’t even want responsibility for your baby’s picture.


I think this baby picture showed up so that I’d have something to write about. I’ve now written. Please, come get her.


8 Comments on “The Baby On My Doorstep”

  1. lbwoodgate says:

    Uh, it might simply be a mistaken address faux pas. Check with your neighbors to see if they recognize it.

  2. I know this post would be completely different if it was a Scout picture. Right? Right?

  3. Azaliah says:

    Okay, that would freak me out a little, but more so if I were a guy. I mean, even if the photo is too new to possibly be a kid you (as in any guy getting a picture of a baby on their step, not YOU specifically) personally fathered, it could be like…a grand kid from a kid you never knew existed.

    I’m not a man; nor am I the one this happened to, yet it’s still creepy. Maybe creepy isn’t the right word. Perhaps disconcerting is better. I mean, doesn’t it sound like the beginning of a bizarre horror novel? Or a sappy rom-com chick flick? A Halmark Channel original, perhaps? (Sorry had to toss that in there.)

    What could it mean? WHAT, by golly, could it possibly MEAN?!!

  4. List of X says:

    You could just adopt this baby picture. Unlike a real baby, it won’t even cry all night, demand to be fed, entertained, sulk in teenage years, and eventually leave you.

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