in which i nearly kill a baby (and it might've been the same baby) twice

3 months back, i nearly killed a baby.

it was a saturday, and i was working the 12-close shift at the portrait studio. an indian couple checked in for their 7 o'clock appointment for their 9-month-old twin daughters. regrettably, their daughters were fuck-ups and wouldn't so much as crack a smile for me, even though i was busting my ass for them.

this is why i hate babies. they don't understand that reciprocation is what makes the world go 'round. i mean, just look at oral sex.

after their session, i folded up the step ladder that i had been using, propped it up against the wall, and left the camera room. but i didn't get more than a few feet before the ladder fell - right on one twin's head.

she flipped her shit. and it wasn't long before her twin flipped her shit, too. but me, i had already flipped my shit, because i live in america, a country where you can break into somebody's house, hurt yourself burglarizing it, sue that somebody for it - and win.

i was frantic. "oh my god. i'm so sorry. is she okay? what do you want me to do? should i call 911?" but the indian couple ignored me completely. instead, they calmly poked and prodded the bump on their daughter's head* and cooly talked about i-don't-know-what in hindi. for all i know they were talking about getting a bite to eat after all was said and done. so, wife, what will you cook us tonight for dinner? oh, i don't know, husband. perhaps i will fix us a meal of hot and spicy whatever-it-is-indians-eat.

*they actually went so far as to massage the bump, which made me nervous because i knew that rubbing it would only make more blood flow into it and it would consequently get bigger. but at the same time i knew that they wouldn't want medical advice from the girl who had nearly killed their baby seconds before.

that's when i knew they weren't american. that they were first-generation indians, not second-generation. because they kept their cool. i mean, american parents have pushed elementary schools across the country to keep schoolchildren from playing tag lest they scrape their knees*. i'm confident that if american parents had their way, their children would be encapsulated in bubbles, never again to experience even the slightest physical discomfort.

*i'm not exaggerating. i actually read an article about it, although i can't remember which publication i read it in.

but i digress. yesterday i was once again working the 12-close shift when the same indian couple showed up, this time with their 1-year-old twin daughters and their two sons, ages 5 and 7. at first i didn't recognize them, but once i did it was... awkward.

what's worse is that the session was a bust, because just like before their daughters were fuck-ups, refusing to smile or sit still for me even though i was practically doing backflips for them. their parents were fuck-ups, too, because they did nothing but stand in the doorway motionless while their daughters ran apeshit in my camera room. it's my job to make your daughters smile, not to babysit them.

but here's the kicker: i nearly killed their baby again*. somehow she found one of the metal rings that we hang up our backgrounds with on the floor and stuck it in her mouth. her father fished it out with his thumb and forefinger and handed it to me to dispose of**, and gave me the trademark condoleeza rice stink-eye.

*i wonder if it was the same baby. if so, it is surely, as bryan put it, "destined to die".

**because apparently i looked like i wanted to touch the metal ring his 1-year-old daughter had just been sucking on.

this time i refused to accept responsibility, much less apologize. like i said, it's not my job to babysit. i wish i had had the balls to say flat-out, "you know what, sir, don't look at me like that. by filling out your paperwork - which you filled out before you even set foot in the camera room, by the way - you agree that it's our job to photograph your children and your job to ensure your children's safety. so if you and your wife can't keep an eye on your 4 children, then hire a babysitter or bring a friend or family member along for the ride, because to be honest, i don't get paid enough as it is".

but i didn't. instead, i took undoubtedly the worst pictures that i have ever taken on the job, and they actually paid money for them.

SUCKERS.