It's not easy being an infant. You have absolutely no control over your life: you get dragged around town on someone else's errands all day; you have very little input as to what you are fed; and, occasionally, you end up having to sit for a while in your own poop. Then, when you try to voice your concern, or even outrage at your treatment, they shove a pacifier in your mouth to shut you up.

This is not a life I, for one, would label worthy of envy.

My niece Landry is in the infant stage. Four months old, she has to face the daily humiliation of wearing giant satin bows my sister clips to a variety of coordinating elastic headbands. Tonight's was hot pink, an accent to the hot pink and black, couch-like print pant suit Landry had no input in selecting. This child cannot be happy about that.

To add insult to injury, Landry received a round of vaccination shots today. Both legs were jabbed with needles, and during the preceding physical exam, the doctor informed my sister of two facts: 1) Your child's tear duct is clogged and if it doesn't clear up after another month, we will have to hold her down while we thread a wire though her tear duct to clean it out. This will, of course, obviously be excruciatingly painful. 2) The back of your child's head is flat; perhaps you should consider having her wear an orthopedic helmet to round out her skull.

Yikes! Is this a pediatrician or a communist interrogator? The kid is only 4 months old. I'm pretty sure she can't possibly know any state secrets you can pry out of her by sticking a wire in her eye!