1. Lose all the baby weight immediately. Do you want your child to think of you as svelte and conventionally attractive, or slovenly and besaddlebagged?
2. Get rid of your TV. Well, don’t just get rid of it — that’s wasteful. Convert it into a planter for an organic herb garden.
3. Breastfeed. Until he’s 12 years old.
4. Quit your job and stay home all day. Oh, please. Your baby doesn’t even know what “foreclosure” means. Stop being selfish.
5. Use cloth diapers exclusively. Disposable diapers are for lazy people, Earth-haters, seal-clubbers, working moms, and Kardashians. Since you’re none of those things, go ahead and make a pail of shitty cloth diapers a permanent fixture in your house. (For the best feng shui, pails of shitty textiles should be stored in the northwesternmost alcove of your home.)
6. Teach him sign language. This should begin while he’s still in utero. The motions of your hands will produce sonic waves across the amniotic fluid, which your fetus can easily pick up on — unless you made the terrible mistake of eating processed foods while pregnant.
7. While you’re at it, learn a second language. Unless you’re fluent in at least two languages, how can you expect to raise a bilingual child? Which, in 2014, is really the minimum linguality we should all be targeting.
8. Wear your baby everywhere. Including the shower, the dentist, and the local essential oils co-op.
9. Read to him for at least 6 hours a day. Eric Carle or Roald Dahl are OK during the sleep-deprived newborn phase, but you should plan to graduate to Chekhov, Joyce, and Hemingway after that hazy “fourth trimester” is over.
10. Provide him with only wooden toys. If your child lacks imagination — not through any fault of their own, but likely through some fault of your own — and “requires” colorful toys at playtime, ensure the dye is nontoxic, plant-based, and a pleasantly neutral earth tone.
11. Make all his baby food by hand using only local, organic produce. What’s that? You can’t “afford” organic produce because you quit your job? Oh. Guess you don’t love your baby after all, then.