"I plan to spend the day eating, sleeping, pooping, being adored by everyone and then modeling for a book."
Modeling for a book?
That's right, our little girl is going to spend her "birthday" afternoon in front of a studio camera posing, smiling and looking adorable. If that's not enough, she's even negotiated a chauffeur (Brittany), a diaper changer (Brittany) and the right to sleep in between takes.
Boy, they really grow up fast, don't they?
This all came about Thursday afternoon, when my good friend Jessica (or The Jypsy, as some of you may remember her) stopped by my cube. It started with our typical weekly chat: How's your house? How's your spouse? I really, really like your blouse. When we ran out of words that rhymed, we got to the heart of the visit:
"Brian, and you can totally say no to this, but I'm editing a book about knitted gifts for people and one chapter is devoted to kids. Because Ella is so darn cute, would you mind if we took some photos of her in knitted garb and used her in the book?"
"Will she get paid?"
"Well, no … but she'll get a free copy of the book."
Now, I don't mean to brag, but Ella is taking after her old man. Once upon a time, many moons ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I, too, was a model. The year was 1984 and a young Brian A. Klems made his way down the Shilitos (now Macy's) runway wearing a dashing, debonair, manly outfit that looked something like this: click here.
My mom was proud. The crowd loved me. The critics used words like "masterful," "breathtaking" and "this generation's Scott Baio." I was on top of the world—less because of the fame and more because they gave us free juice and cookies after the show.
Of course, I eventually had to walk away from the spotlight. The modeling agency cited "creative differences" as the reason for our split, but that's just a cover. I left the limelight to pursue bigger dreams like playing shortstop for the Cincinnati Reds and being featured on NBC's Website with Dwight the Bobblehead.
Now, I don't want you to think that I'm pressuring her into a modeling career. I mean, come on, she's one-month old. Like any good parent, I don't care what profession my daughter chooses. In fact, modeling would likely be at the bottom of my list, but it's hard to pass up a fun opportunity like this. And years from now it'll be cool to look back at that book and tell her stories about her "modeling days."
"Ella, I remember when you drooled all over that cameraman and then, like a polite and well-mannered baby, you licked it right up! Your mom and I were so proud."
So next March, when you're hanging out at your local bookstore looking for a nice spring read, I recommend picking up a copy of Closely Knit by Hannah Fettig. If you do, I'm sure our little star would be happy to autograph the copy for you—of course, it'll look less like a signature and more like sneeze mark.
What a wonderful way to spend your one-month birthday—on location, in the spotlight, being the center of attention. We can all be so lucky to "Mbnmadna."
The Life of Dad is updated most Fridays (barring the call of family duties). Thanks for stopping by and following my attempts to be a good dad, husband and co-ed softball player. I hope you visit again. -- Brian