Your baby may not be an ugly baby. Your baby may look good for a little fat, spitting, crying and pooping machine. Your baby probably looks better than most sanctimonious adults. But your baby, unless it is certifiably adorable to the entire world, probably looks about a quarter as good as you think it does. It’s OK, dopamine and serotonin are flooding your brain, but let’s keep it real.
“Ladies’ man” what? He’s not a ladies’ man. He’s 2 months old! A little fat smiling face spitting up on its bib and falling over himself like a drunk is the closest the little dude will come to being like a ladies’ man (after he had too much tequila).
“A sweet little blossom” is a pooping machine. The child smells like shit, not flowers. Don’t lie to mom, she’s the one wiping its butt.
“He’s cute as a button.” Buttons aren’t cute. They’re weird and they fall off a lot.
“She takes after her father.” What? Father is bald and cranky. Can you specify how and what part of the body?
It’s all “my baby has the prettiest eyes” and “look at those rosy cheeks” and never “I don’t know about its nose” and “I see a lot of his papa in his fat little cherub face.” The truth is we need to stop telling babies they’re perfect and they can be anything they want to be. Trumps, Kanyes and Hitlers are born that way.
*Some of you have really fucking cute babies and can disregard this article.*