I hope you love your baby as much as I love "Uptown Funk": fully, shamelessly, even if it makes you uncool.
I hope you love your baby as much as I love Beyonce's cover of "Uptown Funk." She hasn't actually recorded one, but I imagined it, and that counts, right?
I hope you love your baby as much as Beyonce loves Blue Ivy.
I hope you love your baby as much as I love Blue Ivy.
I hope you love your baby more than I loved turning my concert ticket money into "piece of fuzzy cloth with a face on it" money.
I hope you love your baby as much as I love being able to drink wine right now. Seriously. This unoaked Chardonnay. You have no idea. I'm going to try pairing it with sushi. I don't know whether or not they'll pair nicely, but how great is sushi? So delicious.
I love you love your baby as much as you love Pinterest.
I hope you love your baby as much as I love going to parties that serve no purpose other than to give you gifts. The baby industrial complex is REAL.
I hope you love your baby as much as I am going to love asking you to buy me things when I have a baby. Even if it's just a toy baby like in American Sniper. You'll throw me a toy baby shower, right?
I hope you love your baby as much as I loved buying a dozen grey onesies for your baby, just like you asked.
I hope you love your baby enough to eventually introduce it to colour, like it's living in The Wizard of Oz or something. I hope you consider synching your labour to some Pink Floyd songs. It'll totally line up.
I hope you love your baby enough to never make it watch that Oz movie with James Franco, but that you also love it enough to teach it about patriarchy and that white men are liars who ruin stuff (just like the Wizard, or Sam Raimi.)
I hope you love your baby so much that you forgive it for being the reason you pooped in front of doctors during childbirth.
I hope you love your baby. Because I do, but not enough to change its diapers. Hope that's okay.
