I was going to write about the girls' (too big, too loud, but quite fun) birthday party, but before I do that, I just have to vent. If you're readers of Baby Daddy you know that both Steve Almond and I live in the Boston area. We thought that, in the spirit of blog-raderie, it might be fun to get our kiddos together for a play date of sorts. Yeah. Well. BIG Mistake. Josie seems so sweet and sociable on her dad's blog, but in reality, I'm sorry to report, she's a total prima donna. Get that girl a onesie that says "Princess" on it, stat.
Here, for example, is Josie is holding court in one of Elsa and Clio's bouncy seats. Note how my girls are sweetly fawning all over her (the mean girls always do hold a certain sway over the nice ones, don't they?) while all she cares about is trying to get into a more flattering pose for the camera.
Of course, you really can't blame the child in these situations. It's all about the parents. Or, one parent in particular, in this case. Within five minutes of their arrival, Steve started in with his stage-dad one-upmanship: "Hey, Josie, can you tell Elsa and Clio how many unique hits your blog gets per week? Remember how to say ga-jillion?" and "Josie, why don't you ask Elsa and Clio if they've ever been recognized in public by their readers?" and "Josie, remember how we talked about being extra nice to Clio and Elsa because their mommy hasn't published a book yet -- not even one, let alone a ba-jillion, like your daddy --and how that's very, very sad and pathetic?"
What was even worse was the running list Steve kept of "bloggable moments" during the visit. Every time Josie did something cute or funny or impressive (in Steve's eyes), out would come the list. (I had to lend him a pen, which he stole, incidentally.) He advised me, in his condescending way, that I really should start doing the same. "Not that I read your blog much," he said, "Because I'm too busy answering Josie's fan mail in the funny little voice I've created for her, but I've noticed that your material is a little repetetive. I mean, you've posted three videos of your girls doing their so-called 'dancing.' It's cute once, maybe cute twice, but three times? Come on."
He then turned on our animatronic, singing snowmen and told Josie to show us the routine he'd choreographed for her. And yes, I admit, it is impressive when a 15-month-old can do two grand jetes and a pas de bourree couru followed by the "running man" without missing a beat. But I don't think that automatically makes her "high superior queen of the baby blogosphere" as Steve kept calling her, in an annoying cutesy-wootsy voice. And it certainly doesn't justify this kind of behavior:
Honestly, I feel sorry for Josie. How could she not be expected to turn into a little monster with this kind of parenting? I just hope I won't repeat Steve's mistakes with my precious, perfect little angels. (Who, incidentally, you can buy autographed 8x10 glossies of for $20 each. Suitable for framing. Contact me privately.)
