The Ol' Baby on the Doorstep

So I'm sitting here working peacefully in my apartment when I hear this wailing. I mean wailing. It's coming from outside my front door.

Immediately, my thoughts turn to Three Men and a Baby. I figure, great, there's going to be a baby abandoned on my doorstep, and what the hell do I do then? Where the hell are Steve Guttenberg and Tom Selleck when you need them, right?

So I open the door, and standing there is a little Hispanic toddler (definitely under two years old, I'd say, but she could walk). She takes one look at me and is instantly confused. This, no doubt, stems from the fact that she has no idea who I am. Nonetheless, she figures it beats the porch and toddles into my hallway. I am on the phone, so I say I have to go, and I turn my attention to the crying child in my apartment.

I pick her up, and she stops crying and just stares at me. Babies love me, this is a proven fact, although I have no idea why. Now the question is, what do I do? I ponder calling the cops, but I figure this baby couldn't have come from anywhere far away. She can barely walk, much less drive, so I'm sure she's local.

So, I carry her out of my apartment and down the steps. I ask two Mexican workmen -- who are apparently so busy in their re-roofing tasks, they failed to notice a wailing child on my welcome mat -- "Hey, did you guys see where this baby came from?" Lacking the ability to speak English, one of them points in a general direction I'll call "away from them."

So I wander down a bit, and sure enough, two staircases down from my townhouse, is one with an open door. Surely, this is where this baby came from. I walk up the stairs, and in the hallway is a small Hispanic man holding a laptop. He looks at me as if I'm supposed to say something, even though I'm standing there holding his daughter. So I say, "She yours?" He nods and I hand her off as her older sister (probably about five) stands there watching.

He smiles to me and gives me -- get this -- a thumbs up. Now call me old fashioned, but I think the thumbs up is a gesture better suited for presidential motorcades, movie reviews, and the Olsen twins when they were on Full House. It is NOT, however, an appropriate subsitute for, "Thank you for finding my lost child, who I apparently didn't even notice had wandered out of my apartment, down the long flight of stairs, up another long flight of stairs and into your apartment. It will never happen again. Thank you so much!"

He didn't even look the least bit concerned. Before leaving this stupid-grinning schmuck, I say, "Hey, guy, you might want to keep that door closed. Or at least keep an eye on your kids."

I went with that only because, despite holding a minor in Spanish, I do not know how to say, "Act like a parent, you irresponsible douchebag."

So now I'm back home, pondering calling up Guttenberg's publicist to see if ol' Steve wants to come live with me in case it happens again. I mean, what else has he got to do? The guy hasn't worked in years.