How to Make People Think You Have a Mental Health Issue

You might think the title of this post refers to me. Surprisingly, it doesn't. Except in the respect that I was so disturbed by what I am about to tell you that my mental stability was at risk.

The wife and I went to breakfast yesterday. It's getting to be a regular Saturday routine, which makes me feel like a Sex and the City character, only we don't need four women, just two because the two of us make enough trouble for four people.

I digress.

When I walked to my table I saw a small baby in a high chair right next to us. It was abnormally tiny and not moving. It was also not dressed appropriately for the weather. That's because it wasn't a real baby. Silly me for assuming that restaurant high chairs are reserved for real babies. Duh. Especially in crowded restaurants where there's not enough space to start with. Yeah, let's waste it on a piece of plastic.

So that's not even the weird part. Or the real asshole part. It gets worse.

The dad had to go to the bathroom. The high chair was in his way. He very carefully slid it back so as not to disturb Fake Baby. And then he removed books from the book shelf behind him so that Fake Baby could see over the table. First it was just a few but I guess that wasn't enough. He put a whole freaking stack in the chair. For Fake Baby. And he didn't lift her up by her head, he gently asked his daughter hold her so he could get it just right. Like he didn't want to upset Fake Baby.

Okay. So maybe it was really sweet that he was showing his daughter's doll such tenderness in helping to care for her. But I really think that he believed the doll was real. It was weird. It was disturbing. And distracting. And really just fucking freaky.

I might have nightmares. Chucky has nothing on that Fake Baby bitch.