While I can appreciate the pride you must feel as a new mother, let’s get one thing straight…I refuse to click that link and submit a vote in whatever “cute baby” contest you just entered your kid in.
In fact, I hate to break the news to you, but while most infants look relatively the same, yours kind of looks like E.T. Any chance you had of winning my vote was dashed when I realized that was a picture of your baby and not Chaka.
Please tell me more about the nominal cash prize you will be awarded if indeed you claim the popular vote! Also, keep me posted on where the other babies you are competing against rank in the standings! How many days are left to cast my vote? Well, I’d better hurry up and get to not voting before time runs out!
What’s your deal, lady? The daily updates are a bit much, no? Please tell me that this is a postpartum coping mechanism because then I may actually feel some sympathy. You can’t possibly believe that there’s more value to this contest than the increased web traffic your local newspaper web site is going to receive. It can’t be for Junior’s self-esteem, right? If self-esteem mattered to babies we wouldn’t dress them like hopped-up forest creatures.
I really hope there isn’t an empty pit in your soul that can only be filled with the prestige of a plaque that reads “Baby Idol Winner 2012″ and a $50 gift certificate to Outback Steakhouse.
When your kid grows old enough to realize you’re using her as a gateway to Honey Boo-Boo, how do you think she’ll feel?
While you’ve been campaigning on Facebook all day, do you know what your precious has been doing? Holding it; Just waiting for that precise moment when you realize you’ve forgotten to change him, only to get fire-hosed between the eyes with an amber stream wreaking of the carrots and peas mash you force fed him at din-din last night. Not so cute anymore, is it?
I beg of you, the next time you fall victim to a website’s click generating tactics, please leave me out of it. I wish your kid the best of luck in life regardless of how badly you’ve probably messed him up. Enjoy your Blooming Onion.