This made me laugh out loud… It’s true! An article about why babies are like tiny celebreties: frighteningly self-absorbed, all id – and frequently half-naked!
Written by the TV Show Host and Author named Touré:
Earlier this month, my son Hendrix turned one. People have been asking me what I’ve learned over the past year. I tell them: I’ve learned that babies are tiny celebrities. As Bonnie Fuller might say, they’re just like stars. I know a little about being a celebrity—several people think I’m a quasi or semi-celeb (my wife is not one of them)—and I’ve interviewed and observed countless stars. When you walk in a room a few feet behind Jay-Z or J-Lo, you see everyone’s face light up and you watch the focus of the room taper into full attention on them. The same thing happens when you walk into a room with a little baby: every face explodes with joy and all eyes turn to the little one.
That’s the least of it: when you’re a star, even at my low level, people come up to you on the street all the time—strangers just start talking to you as if they already know you. Stardom is a great familiarizer. Babies get the same treatment. No matter what block I’m on with my boy, a passersby will stop and just start talking to him, even though they’ve never met him and know that he won’t respond to them. He’s too big a celeb to talk to any commoner on the street.
Like most big stars my boy’s got an entourage—personal assistants to get him whatever he wants (Mom, Dad, nanny), a chauffeur (Dad), a stylist (Mom), a bather (Dad), a private chef (Mom). And he can just grunt at his people to get what he wants. When he makes a mess, someone else will clean it up and when he gets in trouble there’s always someone right there to bail him out. For Britney it’s the lawyer, manager, and publicist who hide her arrest from the media, for Hendrix it’s me grabbing him when he’s about to fall off the bed and hurt himself. But that’s just a difference in scale.
The similarities between babies and stars go on and on: people are always taking pictures of them. They’re frighteningly self-absorbed. They’re all Id. They go by one name. They spend all day playing with their toys. People travel great distances just to see them do their thing. And they’re far, far more likely than the average person to spend time in public half-naked.
But I think the best baby/star perk of them all is being able to get away with murder. To enjoy this one you have to be way higher on the celeb food chain than I am. And I think somehow my son knows I envy him this perk and he shamelessly flaunts it in my face. For example, at his birthday party he pimp-slapped his five month-old cousin Petra. Seriously. He looked like Ike Turner in ’76.
Of course, like real celebrities, the true test of character happens when the moment fades, and when a hotter, younger star steals the spotlight. My oldest son seems to be working on one come-back project after another, while the middle one is glad to have the spotlight move away so he can focus on his real calling in life: eating, and building architecturally important houses with Lego.