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Middle-aged Baby Boy

published: 2009-08-10

This morning, a middle-aged man cheerily walked down the street. He was wearing light-blue baby boy clothes. The style of them was oldfashioned: his nappy shorts had white frills around the edges, as did the short sleeves of his top. He wore long, pastel yellow socks. And he was holding a girly bag, which he swung as if he were skipping. 
Clearly, he was mentally ill. But he was perfectly happy. I thought to myself, “good for you.” Because not many people are.
Then, two garbagemen started loudly ridiculing him. The garbage trucks honked their horns at him, and insults. The man scuttled over to the other side of the street. Like a dog with its tail between the legs. Expecting a blow.
While biking on, I considered his clothes. Clearly, they had been tailor made for him. I wondered whether he had made them for himself. Or maybe his mother had, knowing that baby-boy clothes makes her middle-aged son happy. 

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