The Expert:
Convinced s/he knows as much as, if not more than, the
instructor. Wastes valuable class time “correcting” or arguing with the
instructor regarding inane details of the childbirth process (“No! The wheels
on the bed roll counterclockwise!”). Apparently paid $150 solely for the
opportunity to share his/her knowledge with the rest of the class.
The Worrier:
Apparently sits at home thinking up
horrific-yet-nearly-impossible childbirth scenarios, then comes to class to
drill the instructor about what to do in such situations. “What if there’s a
blizzard, and the power goes out and my wife is in labor, but I can’t find her
in the dark because she’s lost her voice, and then I trip over her and land on
her stomach and pop the baby out—what should I do?!?!?!” Provides class with a
welcome opportunity to check their email.
The Dimwit:
You hope this gal is signed up for 28 more sessions, because
she clearly doesn’t have the first clue about . . . anything. How she managed
to make a baby in the first place is unclear; presumably she tripped and
accidentally had sex. Easily identified by the absurd questions she asks, ex:
“How many toes does a baby have?”
The Ass:
You feel sorry for his wife/partner. Can’t shut up about
himself for 5 minutes, and seemingly oblivious to the fact that childbirth is
necessarily about the woman. Wears the empathy belly for 5 whole minutes and proceeds
to brag about his endurance for the rest of the evening. Makes comments such
as, “Oh, I have back issues; she can massage herself.”
The Man-child:
Clearly pregnancy wasn’t on his to-do list, and while he’s
showing up to class, he’s obviously not handling impending fatherhood well.
Telltale signs: still wears a backward baseball cap and frat house cologne,
plays with phone the entire time, only perks up when breast enlargement is
discussed.
The good news is, you only have about 4 of these classes before you yourself are a childbirth expert and totally qualified to care for a newborn. Incredibly. Tough it out!
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