Let’s make a deal. You stop fussing, and I’ll let you hold The Precious. But only for a few seconds. We both know that, when put into the wrong hands, especially grubby saliva-covered baby hands, The Precious is capable of terrible things. Things like: accidentally overnighting an inflatable hot tub to our house, or sending cryptic messages to my boss, or secretly recording me, in my bathrobe, trying to choke down black coffee because we ran out of sweetener. Of course, you don’t care about all that. You just like The Precious because it is shiny and beautiful and makes little buzzing noises that have been training you like a pavlovian dog since you were an infant. You’ve also had plenty of time to observe me with The Precious. You’ve seen the way my eyes glow with the reflection of The Precious’ artificial luminance. You’ve seen me lovingly pet The Precious by swiping my finger up and down, left and right, over its smooth, flat belly. You see, I’m a lost cause. Once upon a time, I was taking a stroll through an Enchanted Big Box Store, when a horrible little Sales Nymph used a Discount Hex to force me to fall in love with the first thing I saw: The Precious. Ever since then, I’ve been powerless to resist The Precious’ call to waste hours reading internet comments written by sociopaths and playing Free-to-Play games that would make Sisyphus want to get back to rolling his ball. Where once sat a boy with ambition and purpose, now slumps a man crippled by instant and artificial gratification. But there is still hope for you, my darling child. That is why you must never stare into the crystal abyss of The Precious’ Great Eye for more than a few seconds. Ooo, it buzzed! Give us back The Precious! Give it back to us neeeeeooooooow!
“These aren’t just any old blocks – they were previously owned by Emilio Estevez.”
Sell me this block. Right here. Right now. Sell it to me. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Oh, well don’t worry about it – Cat got my achilles tendon last night as I was climbing into bed. He’s a jerk. Anyway, if you’re not going to sell me this block, I’ll do it for you. See, I get up with Kid in the morning so Wife can try to pay off some of the massive Mommy Sleep Loans she took out right around the time Kid was born (And judging by the size of the veins in her eyeballs, she’s still about 500,000 minutes in the hole. Thanks, Obama.) Everything seemed to be going fine with The Morning Shift, until a few days ago, when I noticed Kid was no longer interested in playing with her toys. She was, however, very interested in playing with the soil in the potted plant on the other side of the living room, and since babies and soil go together like babies and soil, I’ve had to try to “rebrand” her old toys as exciting and novel alternatives to putting dirt in her mouth. For example, this morning I did a full sales demonstration of all the amazing things you can do with blocks. From holding them in your hand, to holding them in your other hand – the possibilities are virtually endless. BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE! Did you know that you can also put blocks in your mouth? They taste like…like…soil! And that, my friends, is how you sell a block to a baby.
“Do not, under any circumstances, ask these guys for help when you are lost.”
I’ve been tricked. No, I’m not talking about the new street magic show for Millennials, Tricked, which is hosted by that really popular boy band – Multiple Instructions I think they’re called. I’m talking about the fact that my daughter, Kid, deliberately misled me into believing she was nothing more than an oversized paperweight. Granted, I would never let her near important documents, for fear of them being drooled on, (because baby drool is apparently more acidic than the blood of the Xenomorph in Alien) but this is a humor blog, not an important document care and safekeeping lifestyle blog. Incidentally, if that’s what you’re looking for, DocuMen.com has everything you need to get started. It’s a cute little document care and safekeeping lifestyle blog run by two middle-aged, former businessmen who decided to quit their jobs in finance and blog about all things document. From filing cabinet reviews, to tips on how to buy laminators factory-direct for substantial savings, DocuMen.com is the blogosphere’s best-filed secret (PUN ABSOLUTELY INTENDED). Back to how kid pulled a fast one. For seven whole months, she just kinda lay around the house, not lifting a finger to help with the dishes or shovel the driveway or take the car to AutoZone for new windshield wipers. Then, one day, she started crawling. She didn’t even have the decency to send me a notarized memorandum 45 days in advance, you know, like the law says. I’m still waiting for Multiple Instructions to pop out of the closet and say, “You’ve been Tricked.” Except instead of saying it they would sing it. And confetti made from various instruction manuals would rain down from the ceiling. I don’t know, it’s a Millennial thing.
“The things we do for our child…that they aren’t able to tell us not to do.”
The media is out of control. Day-in and day-out, we are bombarded with a misrepresentation of reality so gross it makes us wonder if we are conscious or dreaming. No, I’m not talking about the widespread use of Photoshop to make cheeseburgers look 10 years younger. I’m talking, of course, about baby snot suckers. For the uninitiated, a snot sucker is small rubber tube that connects your mouth – the thing that you eat with – to the snot-filled nostril of your baby. If you are currently thinking, “Hey, those two things should not ever be connected,” congratulations, you’re sane! Unfortunately, millions of parents around the world do not share your valuable skill of thinking and behaving in a normal and rational manner. Instead, they see a photo of a Swede sucking mucus out of an infant with a crazy straw and pull out their wallets. Don’t believe me? The NoseFrida, a self-described “Snotsucker Nasal Aspirator” (paging H.G. Wells!) is currently the #1 Bestseller in Baby Grooming & Health Kits on Amazon.com. And do you know why it’s a #1 Bestseller? Because babies can’t write Amazon.com reviews. If my baby could write a review for the NoseFrida, it would read something like this, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GET THAT THING AWAY FROM MY FACE HOLES YOU PSYCHOPATH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” But don’t take my baby’s word for it. You too can experience the abhorrent sensation of having your snot stolen by placing your vacuum’s crevice attachment over your nose and turning it on. Enjoy!
“Good luck with that 3 AM diaper change! Mwu-hahahahaha-OUCH! Pricked myself again.”
Hi. I’m The Devil. And today I’m going to show you how to make your very own baby clothes. Before we get started, go ahead and throw away all your spare zippers. That’s right: all of them. Reasons aren’t important. Just take all your zippers and dump them into the garbage. Better yet, put them in a pile and set them on fire! Have you destroyed all your zippers? Good. Now we can start making baby clothes. First, we want to pick out a fabric. I’m partial to fleece because it’s so soft and cuddly. Next, we’re going to choose a cute animal to sew onto the bottom. I think I’ll do a baby bunny. They’re the cutest! Using our pattern stencil, we’ll make cuts here, here, and here. Perfect. It’s really coming together! Now, for the final step, you’ll want to dim the lights, put on some ominous organ music, and click your hooves together as you chant the following words: “Fluffy puffy baby bunny cover me in tiny buttons.” One you have chanted these words 666 times in a row, your baby clothing should be complete. The way you can tell is that it will have all these microscopic button snaps on it. They make it impossible for an exhausted parent to clothe their baby without suffering a small stroke. It’s hilarious! Now do you see why I had you destroy all your zippers? They make things too easy! For our next craft, I’m going to show you how to make 8 weeks worth of organic baby food that your child will hate.