Shaolin Monks often vividly share and preach to the uninitiated masses concerning their perception of power. This perception being that the mind is the greatest weapon and asset of any being; that we, as humans, hold the most formidable gift of all living creatures. We possess the capability to control our thoughts and emotions, enacting on such proficiency of mind to achieve beyond the expectations placed upon ourselves by peers and even by our own self...
There is also the make up of our DNA, chromosomes and other sh*t to consider but disregard this – the Shaolin Monks know their sh*t.
It will not surprise you that Bruce Lee & Chuck Norris, both of spin-kicking fame, dreamed of being Shaolin Monks before death and Walker: Texas Ranger, respectively, encompassed and glorified their legend.
Your baby, although evidently small, helpless and perceptively insignificant, is not at all as they would appear on the surface. Put yourself for a moment on the edge of a lake. The lake is in a tranquil setting, surrounded by mountaintops adorned with luscious pines; birds are singing; life is beautiful, flamboyant yet calm. There is a small jetty to an outcrop to your right. Fishermen seldom leave the jetty, so you find yourself in luck that you can be so close to the lake, immersed in the surroundings. There is a light breeze; the sun is directly above you with a sparse spread of sheep-like fluffy clouds…
Then f*cking Lake Placid happens. A 10m crocodile eats your favourite f*cking dog. Your dog was probably called Spot or something awesome like Duncan – Duncan was your f*cking bestie and this big b&tch just ate him. The pier collapses and you are surrounded by the aforethought of death. The clouds turn black; birds start defecating on the once vibrantly green trees, before dive-bombing the lake and exploding into tiny black and brown pieces. Try being a fricking Shaolin Monk when this happens.
The heavily digressed point is simple. Nothing, no training, MENSA, MIT, nothing will prepare you for the psychological war you will encounter with your baby. Physical preparation will bear you no benefits. Look at Arnold Schwarzenegger, Mr. Universe, Conan, The Terminator, the Dad from Jingle all the Way... 'You can't bench press your way out of this, Howard'. He found being a parent so stressful after the temporary hiatus of his acting career that he became the Governor of a state – not even a sh!t state like Maine either, a proper one… Your only shred of hope in the mental battle against your baby is to fight with ignorance, just like Arnie did with the people of Californ-I-A.
Your baby will cry. There's no escaping the high-pitched screams. You have to remember that babies require three keys things to survive and nothing else. Boobs (Milk), sleep and having their nappy changed. Nothing else.
If they've had some boob, they've had a nap, their nappies clean and they're still crying, it can only mean one thing. They are f@cking with you. It's a test of your character. It's a test of your sanity. You will be broken unless you rise above and fight fire with napalm.
Statistics from MENSA state that less than 1% of under-threes have a recordable IQ (recordable being the level at which most supermodels function – Cara Delevingne being the exception, one of the few who knows her five times table). Delving into the statistics you'll find that 0.001% aren't hiding their true abilities. The other 99.999% are lying b@stards. It's easier to fail a test than to make the effort to pass it – they are maniacal deviants.
Babies have no agenda. There's no requirement or human characteristic for which a constant desire to gain attention exists from birth – it's a learned trait in adults… Or is it? It's not. I'll abruptly end the rhetoric right there. We're born with it (or maybe it's Maybeline) and babies know how to use it. In order to beat them, you also have to embrace their behaviour. For sake of clarity – by 'beat' I clearly and obviously mean to overcome them in a mental battle; do not actually beat the baby. It's morally wrong and mostly illegal (depending on where you live/idiocy of legal system). A completely dick move in summary.
When you're a boxer, you live in a gym that has a boxing ring, you train in your gloves, you punch people, and you prepare to box. Footballers prepare to play football by training on a football pitch and funnily enough, but not surprisingly, they do it by playing football. They do other things with cameras in Premier Inn's but that's another story.
To beat (overcome) the baby, you have to be the baby. Embody their actions. Embrace the scream. Suck on some boobs. The baby has the power because you believe they know no different. You are utterly misled by their calculated intelligence. It's really cute when they 'start walking' – mate, they'd been walking for months when you weren't looking. Where do you think the remote went? Duncan the dog didn't move it (god bless his soul); he was your Boi (boy with an 'I' implying urban solitude whilst maintaining a heterosexual understanding).
Cry at your baby. Scream and demand to have your bum wiped. Lie on the floor and practice your skydiving pose. In public, gnaw at all objects which resemble breasts – I don't need to go into a full or exhaustive list, however, the supermarket fruit section and Boux Avenue are good places to start. Be responsible for baby only until they have fed, slept and poo'd adequately. Beyond this, they know what they're doing.
Watch them; secretly film them. There will be an army of Stewie Griffin's in no time. We can't let them win. You just need to know that every single daily battle is all in your head. The seed of doubt has been planted and the planter supposedly can't speak. They f!cking can…
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