Your husband was an ugly baby
Friday was BFB’s campus visit. (Recall that she’s a candidate for a job in my department.) The intersection of professional and personal wasn’t as weird as I’d feared, perhaps because I e-mailed her ahead of time to let her know I was super busy and frazzled and that a) we’d have no real interaction other than our scheduled meeting, and that b) if I seemed grumpy, it wasn’t her, it was the drywall dust up my nose. But it turned out that she had a bit of free time in her evening, so I brought her home for a drink before we went our separate ways. Thus it transpired that she intersected briefly with Mr. Bunny’s mother. Naturally they spent the whole time ooohing and aahing over pictures of BFB’s baby, Jane. Jane really is a very pretty child, but watching this kind of interaction is…boring and irritating. Particularly when I should clearly be the center of attention. And then…Mr. Bunny’s mother turned to me and said that Mr. Bunny was not a particularly attractive baby, so I should be prepared for Bun Bun to not be as cute as Jane.
Wow. WOW! First of all, lady, please don’t insult my husband, whom I totally adore. Second, please don’t imply that my astonishing beauty* is insufficient to counteract whatever ugliness your side of the family might be contributing. Third, please don’t insult my unborn child, who will quite obviously be the most beautiful baby ever to grace the earth with his presence. And if you’re going to simultaneously insult my husband, me, and my future child, please don’t do so via comparison to the child of someone with whom I already have an unpleasantly competitive relationship and a whole lotta baggage.
So I stabbed her AND BFB in the face, cast a spell on Jane so that she will grow up hideous, and Mr. Bunny and Bun Bun and I went out to dinner. THE END.
*A friend of my mother’s recently sent this photo of Little Me. See? Bun Bun will be adorable.
|And will love stripes, just like Mama.|