Lack of adventures in babysitting

So, last night was the big babysitting evening.
I was cool, it had been a while, but I'd done this before. Many, many times.

A bit of background.
I come from a family of breeders. A group of people so f*&%ing fertile that pregnancy is the only successful form of contraception they know.

Youngest of 8 brothers and sisters, I have 18 nieces and nephews. 13 of these I have looked after for extended periods over the years before I moved here.

Anyway, we walked into the victim's living room to see Daddy holding the 7 month old angel. She took one look at me, her face inverted, and she started bawling.

Yep, I still had it.

I soon learned how to adjust her volume based on how close I stood to her, and after a half hour or so she was in my arms and NOT having a seizure.

Progress.

With this, Mammy & Daddy buggered off.

There we were, ET and myself, making ridiculous sounds in the direction of this 'person'. A person who had absolutely no interest in me whatsoever.

I confidently put this down to the same reason every other Dutch woman has no interest in me, there was obviously something very wrong with her.

So there I sat on the sofa with this thing on my lap.
She tugged and pulled at a variety of vulgar coloured toys that frankly did nothing for the living room. While quite engrossed in this mind numbing activity, she would occasionally peer her big browns in my general direction, and scowl.

Now, this is where I started to wonder if there wasn't something significantly wrong with her.

Mommy & Daddy bloggers out there, hold your cherished spawn close, for what I'm about to tell you will surely chill your blood.

She didn't do one single blogworthy thing.

She didn't make one wisecrack that would have you all suspecting that I'd embellished, she didn't crawl into a flowerpot or the tumble drier or ANY cute photograph worthy position that may make you wonder if I'd staged it, she didn't show signs of knowing beyond her years and ask me how work was going or whether I was worried about getting my 2nd semen analysis result back on Thursday.

Nothing.

I've read all these blogs back to front, so how can this be possible?

I was just about to call social services to report this finding which was most certainly a sign of mistreatment, when she started screaming her adorable little lungs out, which ET informed me signified she wanted feeding.

Seeing as we (I) had decided anything going in or coming out of this sweet heavenly thing was ET's responsibility, I handed her over, all the while wondering how two reasonably entertaining and interesting people could have birthed such an unbloggable cherub.

Fast forwarding through this literary home video, we come to the part where the dear little butterfly wing is again screaming her face off, in my face. Deciding against screaming back in hers, I took to walking her around the room for approximately 10 days.

Having just about decided that I'd had enough of this blogfodderless baby and it's sweet adorable screaming, her parents returned, closely followed by normality.

With our coats on and ready to leave, I pointed out to the doting parents that their first born must surely have some sort of issue that needed urgent attention as she didn't find me in any way entertaining, and couldn't even be bothered to humour me with a gurgle, smile, or any of the cutesy stuff I'd signed up for.

Then, from the safety of her mother's arms the little maggot turned towards me, one little finger in her own mouth and the other pointing right at me, she started.

Her big brown eyes opened wider and she began a long screeching laugh only interrupted by wide gummy smiles, flapping hands, and pronounced nodding blinks.

I may have just grown a fucking ovary.