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How to Make a Million Dollars - Baby Style Posting Date: Jan 20 2008 9:13PM Where I came from, the world was small. This place now, however, is pretty much the exact opposite. It’s big. It’s huge. It’s also bright as hell. In fact, there’s just way too much light entirely. That’s especially true if you’re used to what I’m used to, which is nine solid months of total freaking darkness.
Back in the old days, there were no distractions. No diaper rash. No plush toys. No country music playing while I’m trying to get to sleep. I realize that I don’t know that much about music on account of I’m just one month old, but seriously, can’t we do better than country music? There really should be enough musical options around so that I don’t have to listen to “Beer, Bait and Ammo” on the radio.
When I grow up, I’m getting my ass down to Nashville and making me a million dollars with the country song I just wrote. I call it, “Babies Don’t Cry Fo’ Nuthin’.” It’s going to be an honest-to-goodness country smash hit.
Country music isn’t the only thing I don’t get. What’s with all the bouncing and swinging, for crying out loud? Heck, if I let out a little toot or maybe drool sideways or something, some big-faced person comes out of nowhere and starts with the bouncing and swinging. I would cry to make them stop, but I get so dizzy that I forget how to do anything useful, so I just close my eyes and hope it will all go away. Works every time.
There’s also the diapering thing which is downright confusing. In case you don’t know how this works, let me walk you through it. The lady with the nipples and the man who likes to swing me back and forth are always wrapping my butt in plastic. I feel like a delivered newspaper on a rainy morning. They never stop, so I spend my whole day wrapped in plastic and – and you can pretty much see this coming – every once in a while, I drop a load. Can’t help it really. If your ass was wrapped in plastic, you’d have no choice either. So I fill my diaper and then they come along and open the thing up and make like they’re all proud of me because I turned breast milk into an egg yolk. I’m a freaking magician, I tell you.
When that darn diaper comes off and my ass can breathe again, it feels sooooo good. Seriously. It feels so good, I don’t know whether to crap or sing. I usually crap.
The folks don’t like it so much when I crap without the diaper. Turns out all our relatives and friends spent good money on fancy sleepers and the like and baby poop doesn’t wash out so easily.
So here’s how I’m going to make my second million dollars. How about we just invent some baby poop resistant fabric? We all know the truth – keeping the poop inside the diaper is a pipe dream. Let’s anticipate the problem and institute some counter-measures. Is that so hard? Seriously, why has no one thought to Scotch Guard my Winnie the Pooh sleeper? Hel-lllllo! Ivory Snow may smell nice, but it’s time to start treating my baby garments like the drop sheets they are.
I’m also a little mystified by the whole soother gambit. Let me get this straight … I’m making a fuss, so instead of actually doing something productive like feeding me, changing my diaper or giving me fifty bucks, you pop a fake nipple in my mouth and hope I don’t notice that I’m sucking rubber? Seriously. This is the best you got?
Let me tell you how I’m going to make my third million dollars. I’m going to make milk-flavoured soothers. Babies may be uneducated, but we’re not dumb. If scientists can make condoms taste like a Long Island Iced Tea, surely to God they can make a pacifier taste like breast milk or maybe pureed carrots.
When I grow up, I am going to be so rich, you can’t even imagine. |
