to be or not to be

On our way down to the States last week ("Sea –Hawwwwwks! Sea-Hawwwwwwwks!"), we were joking about a friend’s new baby and how he would probably pose this new bub in teeny tiny fitness poses for the next year (Hi Baker!), because when you’re a new parent and the kid is effectively a Gumby toy, you do this as you please, take pictures and laugh hard. And then they shit mustard out their diaper onto your shirt, ooze snot onto your shoulder and wake up every 4 hours in the night for eight months. Game, set, match turdmonger. YOU WIN.
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