So there I was at the paediatrician’s office, watching my little Chloe get her shots, when it hit me – we’ve advanced so much as a species.
These days they’ve got these miracle 6-in-1 or 9-in-1 vaccines that protect babies from everything from Hepatitis to—I don’t know—spontaneous night farting. (Okay, maybe not, but for our sake and anyone within nostril-shot of a diaper change, they really should include something for odor control.)
The whole experience reminded me of those painful computer upgrade sessions we all loooovvveeee so much. You know the drill: Microsoft or Apple proudly announces you’re installing “the most advanced piece of software known to humankind,” which apparently translates to “please stare at this progress bar as you wait for the imaginary paint to dry on your spanking new windows.”
After what feels like enough time to grow a small garden, your computer triumphantly announces it’s ready to launch this technological marvel. And what’s the first thing that happens? Seventeen windows pop up begging you to download another 8,000 gigabytes of updates because apparently this “revolutionary software” aged like milk accidentally left in your car in the open-air carpark in Central Market.
Which, if you think about it, is basically how human babies work too.
Our little bundles arrive perfectly designed with the latest evolutionary upgrades, only to immediately need “patching” against every virus that’s developed since our ancestors figured out walking upright was a neat party trick.
Looking at today’s shot schedule makes me think newborns must have the most confusing medical records. “Day 1: Existed. Day 3: Received 74 vaccinations.” I’m just grateful babies don’t come with peripherals like cameras or scanners. Can you imagine? Patching the device drivers for those suckers is hell.
