Baby Contest
July 17th 2010 20:01
Last night I watched a baby contest. For those who don't know, a baby contest is, simply put, a competition where young mothers enter their offspring in an effort to validate their opinion that they have given birth to the cutest infant on the planet. That sounds snarky but it is the truth. The contestants are too young to understand anything beyond the basic concepts of comfort and discomfort.
They are far to young to understand that they are being judge based simply on their appearance and how much mommy and daddy are able to spend on adorable outfits for them.
This is not to say they are not beautiful, all of them. From the round headed little butterball who won to the tiny two week old, each was a tempting, kissable little bundle of flesh. Every mom in the room wanted to hold them, one by one and smell their sweet baby smell. The fact is there are no ugly babies. Nature has given infants an innate appeal which helps their survival. All young creatures have it. The wide, dewy eyes combine with pouty little rosebud mouths to form an expression that makes the maternal and paternal instinct kick into high gear.
It is what keeps us enthralled with them and makes strong men the willing slaves to tiny children.
I have to admit that when Gertrude was a baby I entered her in the Baby contest at the county fair. I dressed her in her finest baby garb, complete with rumba ruffles on her leggings and beautiful lace trim on her dress. It was 104 degrees that day and the baby contest was held in the same dirt floored arena that they used for showing livestock. We lined up, 75 mothers with infants, followed by our entourages of dads, grandparents and assorted other relatives and stood while the judges evaluated our children.
When they came close to us, Gertrude started to fuss, so I slipped her pacifier into her mouth and went into the patented "soothing infant" movement of rocking on my feet while keeping a steady beat of pats on her diaper. When the judges got right in front of us, I smiled, pulled the pacifier from my beautiful girl's mouth and watched in horror as she proceeded to vomit down the front of the judge's suit.
No, we did not win. We did not even get a smile from the icy judge who moved quickly away from me and my sour milk spewing little human volcano.
It didn't matter though. I knew she was the most beautiful infant in the house.
She still is, although now she is able to refrain from soiling the judge's suits.
Life is a learning process, after all.
They are far to young to understand that they are being judge based simply on their appearance and how much mommy and daddy are able to spend on adorable outfits for them.
This is not to say they are not beautiful, all of them. From the round headed little butterball who won to the tiny two week old, each was a tempting, kissable little bundle of flesh. Every mom in the room wanted to hold them, one by one and smell their sweet baby smell. The fact is there are no ugly babies. Nature has given infants an innate appeal which helps their survival. All young creatures have it. The wide, dewy eyes combine with pouty little rosebud mouths to form an expression that makes the maternal and paternal instinct kick into high gear.
I have to admit that when Gertrude was a baby I entered her in the Baby contest at the county fair. I dressed her in her finest baby garb, complete with rumba ruffles on her leggings and beautiful lace trim on her dress. It was 104 degrees that day and the baby contest was held in the same dirt floored arena that they used for showing livestock. We lined up, 75 mothers with infants, followed by our entourages of dads, grandparents and assorted other relatives and stood while the judges evaluated our children.
When they came close to us, Gertrude started to fuss, so I slipped her pacifier into her mouth and went into the patented "soothing infant" movement of rocking on my feet while keeping a steady beat of pats on her diaper. When the judges got right in front of us, I smiled, pulled the pacifier from my beautiful girl's mouth and watched in horror as she proceeded to vomit down the front of the judge's suit.
No, we did not win. We did not even get a smile from the icy judge who moved quickly away from me and my sour milk spewing little human volcano.
It didn't matter though. I knew she was the most beautiful infant in the house.
She still is, although now she is able to refrain from soiling the judge's suits.
Life is a learning process, after all.
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