As Soon as My Baby Develops His Upper Bod, He's Doing His Own Laundry
I am sick and tired of my kid being so lazy. He's lived under my roof his whole life, eating my food, leaving his crap all over the house expecting me to pick up after him without ever once saying "thanks." It's like, dude, you're 7 months old. Grow. Up.
So, I signed that lazy turd up for The Little Gym.
Little Gym Greeter Lady: "Well hello there!! Welcome to The Little Gym! We're a gym for little baby people! We're so glad to have you here! Can I get a high five, Little Man?"
Baby: (Blink, drool. Drool. Audible shart. Judgment.)
Little Gym Greeter Lady: "HE'S CUTE!!!"
I assume there were three exclamation points after her statement, but I can't be 100 percent sure. Usually, my right fist instinctively punches the nuts of anyone who speaks any more than three exclamation points, but I was semi-distracted by an infant slapping his mom's engorged mom boobs like bongo drums, so I might have missed one. And if I did, it should be noted that I owe this lady a nut punch. It should also be noted that the bongo boob infant really has a future in drums. Or boobs.
Enter: Teacher dude rocking the ankle socks, Under Armor and a guitar. Every The Little Gym has one. His job is to sing classic nursery songs and teach infants motor skills while simultaneously persuading the parents to believe that he's super happy to have this job because it's four-exclamation-points great. Your baby will fucking love Ankle Socks Guitar Man. Mostly because Ankle Socks Guitar Man does the one thing you cannot bring yourself to do: He does that Barney The Dinosaur hyuk-hyuk talk at your baby, and it totally works. Because the nerd who invented babies thought it'd be super fuckin' funny if the most annoying sounds to adult ears made baby ears stupid happy.
Ankle Socks praises your child for a workout well done. "Hey, Merk, great form! Fourtney, nice rally after that projectile puke on The Red Mat -- who'd have thought broccoli applesauce would be a bad choice? Jernathon, thanks for spotting for Beelzebub!!"
And then, with zero awareness of how ridiculous it sounds, Ankle Socks will invite a whole room of babies to play with his balls. "It's Balls Time! Everyone loves Balls Time!" He will not be wrong about this. Baby excitement will reach Up-The-Back Pant-Shit Level.
I've only been to one class so far, but by the looks of it, my lazy baby will be doing burpees, planks and driving to class by the end of the month. And he sure as shit will be doing his own laundry.
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