Remember the movie when Kirstie Alley plays the mom and Bruce Willis did the voice of the baby?
I was sitting on a bench in front of Dean and Deluca, a neighborhood coffee joint, when a woman came by parking her stroller directly in front of me while she blabbed on her phone. The kid, about two, patiently sat looking at her like she had 6 heads.
I sat looking at him. He was the sweetest in a Gap hoodie, jeans and little Keds, a bag of Rice Krispies that were supposed to keep him occupied. At one point he threw them on the ground, so his mother, without cellular pause, picked them up. So he just threw them again.
The third time, I picked them up and he stopped throwing them.
He wanted attention, and can you blame him? He’s a baby. You could almost hear him thinking.
Doesn’t she ever fucking shut-up? Who cares if dad had the farts all night and her nail polish is discontinued. That thing is glued to her head.
Like Mikey in the movie, you saw his little wheels turning.
I was never lucky enough to be a mother, but know I’d have been a great one, probably too much so.
These babies having babies. Designer strollers and Tods loafers do not qualify you as a good parent.
I’m kinda glad dad had the farts. Serves her right for talking when she should have paid more attention to cooking.