I love zombie movies. All zombie movies. Even the ones that aren’t technically zombie movies because the angry mob of pseudo-human creatures are just somehow diseased and not actually the living dead, like in I Am Legend. The best zombie movies are the funny ones. Zombieland and Shaun of the Dead are two of my favorites, because how can you not like blood, gore, AND fart jokes all thrown together?

The day will definitely come when Ted will be introduced to the zombie genre, but I suppose he is a little too young to start watching now. While I do think the American Academy of Pediatrics is taking a bit of an alarmist stance in saying that a baby’s neural pathways won’t form properly if they watch any TV/movies before the age of 2, we do still point the little bugger in the opposite direction of the boob tube when it’s on. After all, I’m not a doctor, I just think I’m smarter than everyone else.

But even though Ted has never watched a zombie movie, he has been exposed to some things through his parents that are very zombie-esque. There are the bags under the eyes, the blank stare, and the shuffling gate of a parent who hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep. There are also the occasional moans and groans resulting from a sore back because of the contorted position dad had to stay in to not wake the napping baby on his chest. And then there’s the incoherent and/or nonsensical babbling that inexplicably spews forth from your mouth as you play with your little mini-me. If Hollywood is any guide, I would imagine that most new parents could at one time or another earn the zombie classification.

Something definitely happens to a parent’s brain when they have a child. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but I’ve seen it happen to friends and it’s not very pretty. It’s almost like all the logical reasoning and rational parts of the brain get sucked out and replaced by a combination of raw parenting instinct and… well… pure crazy.

A few days ago, after having given Ted his nightly bottle and then moving him into prime burping position, he let loose with a belch that made dad super proud and quite possibly may have been heard two towns over.  I then exclaimed with an enthusiasm that took me completely by surprise,

“ALL BURP, NO SPIT, BECAUSE THAT’S HOW WE ROLL!!!”

No, seriously, I really said that. I immediately looked over to Ted’s mama in disbelief.

“What the heck has happened to me?”

“He happened to you,” she said pointing at the now curled up little ball of baby boy on my shoulder.

Yes. Yes, he has. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.