We first discovered the existence of Babyland when we stumbled across an old recording of something unimportant. However, in the background there was a baby singing a song. Our team of researchers worked diligently to amplify the background singing and mute the mundane mutterings in the foreground. What we heard turned out to be an epic song of valient warriors led by the heroic Baby Trudy. It went a little something like this:
"Baby Trudy from Babyland, and the water balloon brigade!
Baby Trudy from Babyland, and the water balloon brigade!
Baby Trudy from Babyland, and the water balloon brigade!
Water balloon,
Water balloon,
Water balloon,
Water BALLOON...
Brigade!!!"
We then determined that our course of action should be as follows: we should listen carefully to the babies around us and see if we could figure out what they were talking about.
We listened with our hearts... and we began to hear! Stories were told of journeys taken in race cars facing backwards in baby safety seats. Tales tumbled forth of water balloon fights that went on so long the babies' hands got pruney. Crying babies wept over the early days when there was little food in Babyland - before the nurses arranged for cooks to live in - and all they ate was Bitter Apple Stew...
There were stories of pie, dancing, dinner, and freshly baked bread with butter. And how after dinner every night the babies retire to the parlor where they play games and laugh and clap their hands. Until, one by one, they yawn and stretch. And one by one, they trundle upstairs to get into their little baby beds with white downy quilts, close their eyes, and dream... of butterflies and pear crisp, and sheep chewing bubble gum, and cows jumping over the moon.
At this point, we have a working hypothesis: Babyland is where babies live before they come here. And if we really listen, we can hear all about it.
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