caught in the middle

i was just reading chapter 4 of multiply (the sum of our parts), which is the chapter in which theodore and rosalyn are born (“sherlock theodore archibald holmes,” this story was written in 2012, two years before hlv aired) and john is gushing and waxing poetic and being incredibly soppy and romantic about the perfection and wonder of these two children he’s now responsible for, and i find myself having two simultaneous reactions (neither unexpected in topic, but both in vehemence):

(a) parentlock is actually a terrible, terrible idea, and sherlock would be an awful father (john probably wouldn’t be too much better).

(b) i really, genuinely hate babies. the idea of them, the sentiment surrounding them, the canonization of them, them. i think they’re gross and obnoxious and boring and annoying and overhyped and they repel me.

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