Oh, friends. Do I have a story to tell you. A story of hope, of tragedy, of aspirations for greatness and the pain of loss. Of epic, epic failure. A story to bind all of humanity.
It starts, as all good stories do, with the glorious draw of tiny, deliciously dimpled baby butt cheeks. Specifically, those of my baby girl.
Out of respect for her, I’m not posting an actual photo of her bum, but take my unbiased word for it: it is of the highest caliber, mouthwatering baby butt meat and few delights on this earth can match it.
It needed to be preserved. It needed to become art.
So when I saw this little piece of art my sister-in-law’s daycare had made with her little man, I knew that it was the start of something amazing. See the clouds? Those are a butt-stamp of my nephew’s own derriere.
A BUTT STAMP! Have you ever heard of something so simultaneously hilarious, cute and ridiculous?!
I didn’t even ponder the logistics of creating such a thing: I just knew that I had to have it. It would be grand! And no sweet meadow scene for me: it would be abstract in the most snooty, art-snob way. It would be perfect ombre circles of infant buttock glory. Kind of like this:
It would take pinterest by storm! I even searched pinterest to see how other people had done prints of their baby’s rear-ends, and do you know what? In all the land of pinterest, no one had completed such a thing! This would be a first, a revolutionary masterpiece that would herald the beginning of a new ERA in the art world.
Andy and I took the baby to our bathroom to prepare to make history. I poured some finger paints onto a plate and, with a foam brush, carefully brushed the paint onto her soft, savory tush. With one of us holding her body and the other holding her feet, we carefully stamped a piece of paper with her twin cheeks. (Logistically, photos of this process were an impossibility.)
It did not look as I had imagined.
Quickly, we painted it again and stamped again. I could feel the hope slipping from my fingers. Frantic, we tried a couple more times, until it was clear to all involved that the beauteous bum did not translate like I’d hoped.
Perhaps her sweet fanny is made for something greater. But in all likelihood, it was probably our failure to properly squish the cheeks that led to this disaster.
Out of pure stubborn refusal to quit, I cropped the piece and stuck it in my change of art frame to pretend like it could be salvaged.
I posted this photo on my facebook page and instagram to see if anyone could guess what it was.
…which turned out to be one of the highlights of my day. Mila’s sweet bum served as an interesting Rorschach (inkblot) test. Some people saw a steamy make-out scene; others saw innocent angel wings. Some saw birds; others saw breakdancing dragons. Some even guessed correctly that it was a baby butt print, but one thing was clear: you guys are just as crazy as I am. Don’t even deny it.
What do you see when you look into the baby-butt-rorshach test? Do you think we can still take the art world by storm? Are you dying to go find a baby bum and squish it?