Tom Brady: Listen up, Jizzy. You’re bearing Brady brood now. Big Leagues. And a kid that I actually meant to have, no less. Now, if our wedding and Belichick’s strict regiment of mind conditioning have taught me anything, it is that we are beset on all sides by forces that mean to do us harm. Remember when we had security cap that paparazzo? Tip of the iceberg, baby. Remember: readiness is key.
I want us to have contingency plans in place for any situation. Robbers. Crazed fans. Magma from the skies. The ex. Anything.
So I’ve come up with this comprehensive obstacle course to simulate a number of hazardous scenarios we could be dealing with as we try to raise the child we actually wanted to have. Okay, follow me. I’ll grab Mistake Baby and you can hold your gay little pooch.
C’mon. Faster around the cones. Those could be crazed anarcho-rapists who wish to stab our kid with AIDS blades. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather our kid be free of that stuff. Color me uptight.
There we go. There we go. That’s the hustle I like to see.
Duck the flaming arrows. That’s good. Don’t worry, your hair will only singe.
VIPER PIT! VIPER PIT! You almost plunged right in. What happens when I’m not around next time?
All right. That was decent. But decent isn’t good enough. We’re gonna need to do a lot of work with that. I’ll be damned if my wife delivers before she’s ready to protect my young.
Part of being a good parent isn’t just keeping your kid out of danger, it’s helping them cultivate good instincts about keeping themselves safe. Watch little Mistake Baby go through this minefield.
Look at him go. And that’s a field absolutely brimming with mines. Now, that awareness didn’t just crop up overnight. That is thanks to tireless work on my part. It’s like feeling the rush when you’re a quarterback. Once developed, it’s uncanny and practically second nature. That kid could could cartwheel through that field, no sweat.
Didn’t see that coming.
All right. All right. That’s what Mistake Baby is for. Now, if YOU were Bridget, how much would it take to keep you quiet? Like Donte’ Stallworth times diamonds?