Baby

So I was out with a fellow Cleveland-lover the other night, and some stories were exchanged. Mine was made up, a pretty standard boilerplate about some girl in the bar, and his was about a man he met over the summer.

During the course of the story, a man restored a car, and the phrase "it was his baby" came out of both our mouths at the same time. While that's intrinsically interesting enough for the internet (the internet has low standards, though a director would make that moment into something huge and meaningful, as opposed to the simple, lovely synchronization of thought) it's the subject of "baby" upon which I wish to pontificate.

Baby is a word which for me has very specific connotations. It's a word you call your most high, most precious, most beloved. That's why it's the word it is--in a perfect world, your children are the most dear to you. That's why it's used so often with sexual connotations--who doesn't crave feeling that desired, especially during sex?

Baby is a name I will only ever call one person, I think. She is so memorable and important to me that I wouldn't demean the term by applying it to anyone else.