Dear Jackrabbit,
So… just so you know… yes, you have been a pageant baby. Your parents, who love you very much, nonetheless dressed you up today and paraded you in front of a bunch of strangers. Well, not all strangers, your grandmother was there as well as aunties Karen and Shannon and big sister-like Caroline as part of your cheering session.
If we ever do this again, we’re going with this hat.
Sorry to say, boy, you didn’t win, or even place or show. That’s not on you, of course. People still cross the street to tell us how adorable you are. Today, though, we were up against pageant babies who had parents who knew what they were doing. Heck, you should have seen the winner. She was wearing one of those outfits that seem to only exist for baby pageants. We dressed you up well, but probably didn’t do all the right things when it came to presentation.
That, and I suspect the judges were morning drinkers*… if you get my meaning.
Actually, it was a pretty professional event for the most part. It wasn’t at all like you see on so-called “reality” shows. No prima donnas or stage moms having meltdowns. No sabotaging other contestants or accusations of diaper stuffing. If anyone was using Vaseline for cosmetic purposes, I couldn’t tell.
Really, aside from the sounds of several dozen empty liquor bottles being kicked underneath the judges’ tables*, it all seemed pretty on the up and up.
So… why did we do this?
The experience, mostly. We like to try new things when we can. You got scouted in a store by one of the pageant organizers and they made a good enough pitch that we rounded up some sponsors and signed you up to go against 50 or so other infants and toddlers. Oh, there was the suggestion of a modeling opportunity to appear on the side of a box of diapers. The money wasn’t much, but the prospect of free diapers was temptation enough.
So part lark, part roll of the dice on scoring free diapers.
If… and it’s a big if… we decide to try this again, we’ll try to prepare a bit better. More than likely, though, this was your shot at stardom and we blew it for you. But, as they say, there is a silver lining.
Your dad (i.e., me) has worked on a lot of books by or about child stars from the “golden age” era of radio, film, and television. Very few of them had happy childhoods. Most, in fact, had a lot of trouble making it to adulthood. Some of their stories were pretty horrific and, really, you dodged a bullet. What if a model scouted you for a diaper commercial and you ended up becoming one of those anorexic jet-set babies you see stories about on Entertainment Tonight? One of the judges worked for an agency that cast young children (babies, even) for television shows. You might have ended up on the same sound stage as Charlie Sheen. I don’t think any of us would want that.
Plus, you’d hate Los Angeles. And we can’t afford Scientology.
Of course if someone didn’t load up on carbs the night before…
(This is a joke. You just gummed a few unsalted fries and called it a night.)
So, all in all… it was a good day. Despite your parents’ bumbling, I think it was an overall positive experience. We all had a good and interesting time. We all had a very nice lunch after. You got to play with a balloon.
I think if I had any real disappointment, it’s that I didn’t really get any good pictures. The lighting where I sat was terrible and my phone kind of sucks as a camera.
Still, it was an interesting and (at times) surreal experience for all… and something you can cross off your bucket list (you’re welcome).
And I can guarantee that if the judges were sober enough* to be able to hold you and meet you properly, this’d be a whole other story.
But most importantly, me, your mother, all of your friends and relatives and quite a number of complete strangers all think you are the absolute tops… and we’re absolutely right.
All my love,
–Dad
*Disclaimer: My implication that the judges were drunk is used purely for comedic effect. I’m sure they’re all very nice, responsible people. Your dad thinks he’s funnier than he is and it’s probably going to get him sued.**
**Please don’t sue me. I have a family.
