Learn to Like It

Dear Bebe,

I can't believe I'm about to say this, but learn to enjoy watching televised sports.

Your dad will help with this, don't worry; he's already looking forward to turning you into a Cowboys/Mets/Rangers/Rutgers/PGA/World Cup fan and he's even put in a few requests for little co-ordinating outfits for you so he can dress you for each event accordingly.

Your dad and I were both big athletes back in the day but the difference is that I only played sports - I never watched them,  much like your grandfather, Butchie, who was, apparently, a big stud back in the day on the field.  Butchie and I bonded over episodes of This Old House and while watching our favorite 1983 classic, Strange Brew, whereas your father and his father spent their weekends watching whatever sport was in season.  I think this is what lead to our present preferences.

Well, and the fact that he's a boy and I'm a girl and boys watch sports and well, most girls don't.

But there are exceptions, such as your gorgeous Greek auntie Christina F.  Now, Christina and I have argued this point a million times and I've expressed my dislike of her love for sports. She actually enjoys watching them.  Seriously - she goes out of her way to turn on a Jets game... what girl does that?

Apparently, beautiful ones like her.

And I must admit, I think it makes her life a bit easier than mine and will make her life A LOT easier once she is married because the thing is, all boys like sports (ok, there are a few exceptions but they are VERY few and far between - even scrawny, tight t-shirt wearing hipsters in bands over in Brooklyn like sports).

What boys don't like are girls who whine about their husband's sports viewing or who banish the hubs to the bedroom every Sunday afternoon.  And Monday evening. And during baseball season, every evening.

So, do yourself a favor and learn to enjoy watching sports.  I'll fix you a little treat to nibble on and pass your father an ice cold Sprite and then I'll take your father's wallet and go shopping.

Because no matter how much I think you should learn to enjoy watching sports, I never will.

Love,

Me

Prolong the Inevitable

Dear Bebe,

Someday, unless you're really lucky and find a cash cow to finance your lifestyle (and hopefully that of your parents), you'll be forced to enter a life of servitude, commonly known as the work force.

I suggest that you put this off for as long as possible or avoid it entirely.

There are several ways of doing so: remain a student for as long as possible (a scholarship student, mind you, or one with a stipend), find work on an organic co-operative farm that affords you room and board in exchange for slopping pigs and singing kumbaya, or hopefully, find a way to turn what you love to do into a lucrative money maker that only requires you to put forth limited, spontaneous efforts.

Your father and I have discussed this at length and both agree that as long as you are happy and healthy, we will support your endeavors, with some expectations: you refrain from posing for amateur photographers (mass market trade publications are fine, if tastefully done) and if asked by your grandparents, you ARE a Republican.

Enjoy your life,

Love, me

Advice to Bebe

I'm thinking of re-directing my blog focus and using this forum as an ongoing letter of advice to my future daughter.

Here is my first bit:

Dear Bebe,

When backpacking through Europe with your girlfriends (which you are free to do once you graduate high school), abstain from arguing with Czech taxi drivers over the fare.  Specifically, after the driver spits in your face, refrain from kicking the side panel of his sedan because a). he could pull a gun on you, stuff you in the trunk, and sell you to the sex trade or more importantly b). you risk scuffing the toe of your pretty stiletto and damaging your pedicure, not to mention you'll no doubt limp for the rest of the evening.

Cute boys do not like girls who limp or have ugly feet, nor do they marry ones who spent years in forced servitude.

Love,

Me