This is a response to the very popular, very brilliant blurb by Tina Fey: A Mother’s Prayer for Its Child. No, I don’t know why she’s using “its” and not “her” but I’m sure someone, somewhere is writing a doctoral thesis about that RIGHT NOW.

Ahhh, these brief and shining days when boobs are a source of food and not entertainment.

May he never wear Axe body spray.

Should he decide on a career in the military, please let it be First Lieutenant In Charge of Paper Clips or something that’s suitably prestigious, boring, and out of the way of anything more dangerous than a particularly pointy sharpened pencil.

May he be enough of a Momma’s Boy to call me regularly (say every half hour or so…), but not so much of one that he doesn’t know how to do his own laundry.

Should he decide to play hockey, Lord grant me the strength, serenity, and Valium to sit by the rink day after day calculating the cost of his dental bills.

When he is in middle school, may he be nice to the girls – or at least, may he be perfectly ignorable in every way if he can’t manage that. From experience, I know that it’s hard enough being a 12 year old girl without having 12 year old boys teasing you. May he just treat women well in general, because if he doesn’t, his mother is going to come down there SO HELP ME. He should also treat other men with respect. And puppies. And kitties. And just, everything. Just be nice to everything.

Should he catch a snake with his bare hands, may he keep it outdoors because honestly A SNAKE IN MY HOUSE I’M GOING TO LOSE IT.

May he never mix his neutrals. Brown shoes don’t go with black suits. They just don’t.