So several months ago a work colleague convinced me to submit Sebastian’s pictures to a modeling/talent agency here in Chicago. I admit he does take pictures well, and he is also cute in real life.
I wasn’t really into it at first because I have zero time, and I don’t want to add lunatic stage mom to my resume. However when I started showing disinterest, she quickly told me about her friends kid in D.C., who makes a lot of money doing print work. I put my cocktail down and said, “What is a lot?” Her answer was enough to have me completing the online form that night.
Look….that kid needs to go to college, and it ain’t gettin’ any cheaper! (Yes, sometimes I like to speak like a gangster- really brings home the point). Plus with all the food that kid eats, he needs to start building up a grocery fund. I will NOT be able to afford his appetite when he is a teen.
I get a call two weeks ago that they are interested in meeting him in person today. AWESOME! I was very excited and somewhat nervous. I dress him up like an East Coast/ Martha’s Vineyard/ D-Bag, popped collar and all. He even let me put product in his hair.
Once we arrive, the place looked pretty nice and professional. They check us in and escort us to a waiting room with about fifteen other kids. He was (legit) the cutest one there, just saying. A talent agent comes in and gives a speech about how they will take our kids to the other room for a minute to snap a photo, and see if they do well with direction. In my head I am thinking:
He’s got this in the bag. He is an angel, always listens, AND he looks fabulous.
As she makes her way to us, he starts yelling he wants to play Angry Birds. I quickly pull my phone out. I realize this is the time he usually eats at school and gets ready for his nap. Sh*t! He better chill the F out, just for a few minutes. Please Jesus! I start to get nervous, as he is becoming a ticking time bomb. All five of the kids before us were asked to stay. We are next. She approaches and asks his name. “Sebastian.” He states with a smile. I am starting to sweat. Next she asks him to come with her and grabs his hands.
ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE. He yells at her not to touch his gloves, tells her he is not going with her, and starts wildly kicking his legs. You would have thought she was trying to choke him.
The record player screeches, and all eyes are on us. Me…. MORTIFIED. There are only a few times I have requested a ‘return to sender’ on this kid, and today was one of them. (See post: He’s Not Mine for another time.)
Needless to say that b*tch told me he wasn’t ready and needed to reapply in six months. Even though my kid was a disaster and she had every right to say that, something came over me. I felt the need to defend and protect him. As I gathered my stuff, I looked at her and said, “You know who isn’t ready? You!” I grabbed my little a-hole and walked out. I guess my his Hollywood dreams are shattered.
