A baby showed up in New Zealand’s Parliament. The speaker let him sit in his chair. (WaPo)

"When babies rule the world" said Crazy Henry, "I for one will be happy to obey them."
We were walking on the left bank of the Mississippi just below the Hennepin Avenue Bridge, treasure hunting. Crazy Henry is convinced that the Spaniards came through the area several hundred years ago and left behind chests of gold looted from the Aztecs. I have given up trying to convince him that he's completely misinformed about the whole thing -- so when the weather is nice, as it was that evening, I go along with him just for the walk.
"Babies can't rule anything" I told him. "Not even themselves -- they have to wear diapers, y'know."
"Well, so did Winston Churchill when he got to be Prime Minister a second time" Crazy Henry replied.
"You sure about that?" I asked.
"Sure as rain" he told me. "I read about it in Reader's Digest; the guy was getting so old that he couldn't make it to the bathroom half the time, so they rigged up special diapers for the old boy."
You can't argue with Reader's Digest. It would be like spitting in the Pope's face. So I let it go and admired the mottled blue and red sky as the sun began to set and the pigeons started their circling descent into the ruins of the old flour mills that used to explode all the time on the other side of the river. 
"Is that a baby seal?" Crazy Henry asked all of a sudden.
"Where?" I said.
"Right there, on the water. That little black thing splashing around. It's a baby seal, I know it is" he said excitedly.
It was some kind of black blobby thing that was bobbing up and down in the wake of a string of coal barges, and it looked like it might be alive, the way it was moving against the waves. 
"I'm calling the Coast Guard" said Crazy Henry.
"Just wait a minute" I cautioned. "Looks to be a huge catfish, is what it is."
In another minute the black blobby thing disappeared under the water, before either one of us could make out what it really was. We walked on in silence, Crazy Henry turning over brush and rip rap looking for his Aztec gold. The pigeons had finally settled into the ruins and it was getting dark.
"Time to go home" I told him. Then an evil thought struck me. "Y'know" I said to Crazy Henry. "babies have an affinity for gold -- so maybe if you borrowed one for a few hours you might stand a better chance of finding some." But Crazy Henry didn't take the bait. 
"That's ridiculous" he said with a frown at me. "Babies have an affinity for angels and strawberries, not gold."
"But sometimes they're born with a golden spoon in their mouths" I countered. That stopped him in his tracks -- or so I thought. Actually, his mind was still on the baby seal, or whatever it was out in the water, because he then said "That poor baby seal must have lost its mother back in the Arctic somewhere."
"Well why don't you staple some 'Lost Baby Seal' posters on all the telephone poles when we get home?" I asked him sarcastically. 
But just then the night fell on us like an assassin's blow and we had to stop talking.