So, if you want to tell the world about the cloven hoof that you're growing, fire away. Or if you feel compelled to update the Eastern Seaboard on the fact that Bobby Accento (pictured here on the right) shoved his girthy tounge down your windpipe after bartime in a stuffy, poorly lit back hallway at The Argonaut, rock on.
But what I
So that tiny "baby-you" in the high-chair just gurgled three consonant-less utterings in a row without throwing up all over themselves? Sorry, Moms, they just didn't draft the Magna Carta. They didn't perfect cold fusion. They didn't manage to get a bipartisan healthcare overhaul sewed up.
And please don't tell me how funny your wee one is. 95% of what they do is "gouge my eyes out" unfunny. The other 5% involves bodily functions, which can be funny, but probably isn't in their case (unless it has coated you in some way).
Parents, here's the scale you need to use for your kids and Facebook:
(1) "I think my Dora is the funniest baby in human history" really means "The fact that my Dora jammed three fluid ounces of strained apricots into her nasal cavity is, for most people, mildly amusing and worthy of a tiny pity-snicker."
(2) "Our little Ben is a hilarious baby boy" really means "My cross-eyed scamp once birthed a brown submarine the size of Long Island while bathing, but usually cries 13 hours a day until I "quarter dose" them with Robitussin. Yeah, he's a real giggle machine."
(3) "Davie, my sweet little charmer, made this adorable video for Youtube last week when he pretended to be Will.i.am while dancing in Daddy's cowboy boots" really means "I should never have procreated with Country Jerry."
(4) "My little babycakes Kylie is such a serious little snookie, but she can sometimes be Momma's silly boo boo" really means "My Kylie is a joyless little troll who has roughly 74 sad, wanting years left until she departs this Earth friendless and alone."
Now you know. And don't you feel a bit ashamed looking back? If not, I'll feel appropriately ashamed for you.