Pageant Mom

When James was 7 months old, I entered her into a baby pageant.  Now I have never believed I was a pageant mom.  I have no aspirations for her to be rubbing vaseline on her teeth and wearing high heels when she is 4 years old.  But from the minute James was born, I have always thought that she was an exceptionally beautiful kid.  The nice people that I know have always obligingly validated that belief (though in hindsight, what were they supposed to do, disagree?)  So when the Marriott-Slaterville City Baby Pageant was announced, how could I pass up the opportunity to show her off a little bit more?

Rules were simple: under 1 year and nothing but a diaper.  How could she not win? Look at her!

So you can imagine my shock when the they announced the winners, and my gorgeous baby came in last place.  That's right, last place.

Shock.  And then homicidal rage directed at the judges, in the picture below, which I have made very large so you can appreciate how NOT cute her competition was, as well as get a good look at the judges, if you ever have an opportunity to run them over.  (BTW, those are man-boobs on chubby one.) 

I can only conclude that the judges were both legally blind and under the influence of crack cocaine.  Alternatively, they were from France.  Here is my little one wearing her last-place "crown:"

In retrospect, however, it was good for me to learn that I am absolutely, positively, not cut out to be a pageant mom.  But that doesn't mean I have to give up on hot-roller hair, does it?

I do love that girl!