Holy crap, where has the time gone? My baby boy is six months old. He's practically in University!
He's 19lbs, 27.5 inches long, and he's still incredibly cute. I keep waiting for him to morph into an ugly duckling, but nope. He just gets cuter and cuter if that's even possible? I've said this before, but it's true: I didn't expect to have such a cute baby! (It's all about lowered expectations folks.)
But really, it's crazy—strangers at restaurants go out of their way to come up to me and say "Your baby is so handsome! Look at those blue eyes! Look at that smile! Look at his perfectly shaped head!" (Seriously, his head is a marvelous shape. And thank goodness—he has no hair to hide any lumps or bumps)
So after all of these compliments, I did what any good mother would do: I sent Cole's photos in to a modeling agency. I mean, I've already embarrassed him enough with vogue
& baby fighting videos
—he might as well get some real recognition. And if he's as cute as everyone keeps saying, then he can pull his own weight around here a little and start contributing to the family bills. Then I can stop trying to sell organs on the black market for extra cash, and I'll have some free time to take up spoon collecting (??) Go with it...
Anyway, two weeks after I submitted the photos, I didn't hear anything from the agency. I assumed, naturally, that my email went to their junk mail folder. Or that Cole was just too cute for their Roster, and he'd make all the other babies look bad. No big deal. I could always teach him how to juggle or spin fire (do you know how much money busking babies can make?!?) So just when I was about to light the end of a skipping rope on fire in our living room, I got an email from the agency: he'd made the cut! They wanted me to come in with some recent photos, and at this point they'd make their "final selection!"
*insert dramatic music here*
So I got Cole dressed in his best preppy plaid outfit, and made him pinky swear that he wouldn't puke on himself before we got to the agency. My Mom came along to help me out, and we walked into a room full of amazingly adorable babies and friendly but judgemental parents. You just KNEW the other parents were looking your kid up and down:
"Hmmm. That's my competition, eh? Pff. I bet he's not even crawling yet. Is that a drool rash I see? Oh my gosh, I think that baby just shat himself." It was pretty hilarious.
And then the moment came, when the head of the agency explained what would happen:
"I'm going to collect your photos and go into the other room. When I return, we will have made our selection. If I hand you an envelope, this means we do not feel we can find work for your child at this time, and you may leave the room. If we don't hand you an envelope, please stick around and we will come back with a contract for you & your child."
It was like an episode of America's Next Top Model. But with babies. Thank goodness Cole was too busy trying to lick my ear, and didn't notice the tension in the room. Would he make the cut? Would the agency think he's cute enough? WOULD HE EVER REALIZE HIS (MY GRANDMOTHER'S) DREAMS OF BEING IN THE SEARS CATALOGUE?!?!?!
5 minutes later—the lady came back into the room, and guess what? We were not given an envelope. He made the cut!
MY BABY IS A MODEL!!!!!
So I did what any good mother would do. I put my sunglasses on my baby boy's face and took a picture of him in front of their model-wall-of-fame.
Mommy Truth Disclaimer: To be perfectly honest, before I end this post (all jokes aside) I need to admit something to you—
I TRULY DIDN'T CARE IF COLE "MADE THE CUT." I'm only doing this for the time being, just for fun, and if he makes any money it will go into his RESP (so that he can get a good education and take care of me in my old age). I don't want you all thinking I'm a crazy Toddlers & Tiaras type mother. However I MIGHT make up choreographed dance routines with him when he's older, but that'll be just for fun in our living room :)