Twice in the last month, I have been approached by talent scouts. Well, not me, ever, but my redheaded children.

Our first experience came years ago, when Baba was no older than four. A gal who worked for Disney, or rather she worked for a company that supplied people for Disney, approached me. About Baba. I was feistier then and told her that the last red head that Disney got their paws on was Lindsey Lohan and, as I could see what Disney offered my daughter, there ain’t no way on God’s green earth. At the time I was surprised by how strong my reaction was, and did feel bad for the poor little rep. But the last six years have showed me that Lindsey deserved the same reaction from her mother. And I don’t feel bad.

Shortly after that, I received my first flyer inviting Baba, or all eligible little girls, to participate in a child beauty pageant. They said they received my name from a friend. I am unclear as to who I might have insulted or offended that greatly. And, apparently, there is NO getting off that mailing list.

So recently, I was walking in the mall with both of my beautiful girls. Well, Gestating Cinco was certainly part of the party as well.  Minding my own business, walking hand in hand with Baby, when I heard “Oh my gawd, is she your daughter?” Now, as I was Gestating Cinco, among other things, all I managed was a pause along with the question “Which one?” Dur.......

Clearly casting agents, or talent agents or whatever they go by these days, aren’t going by brain cells. Rather, she plowed ahead telling me how beautiful my daughter was, keep in mind that I actually had two daughters standing there. Apparently “they” are ALWAYS looking for redheads, any eye color will do, and freckles are a plus. The very exuberant lady turned on Baba, who is by nature reserved, and asked “Don’t you want to be a star and be on TV and in movies?” Baba, completely uninfluenced by me responded “Not really. “ I took her card to be polite, and did discover that she was legit, but it didn’t soothe my ire at her total ignoring of Baby. True, Baby does not actually have red hair or freckles, but she did warrant a “hello.”

 

But Baba put the issue to rest. And I did not have to consider all the tabloid covers about red headed child stars gone lost. Although the father figure did ask “What if it paid for college?” It was a legitimate question. And I will have to explain why they have college loans and work study. But they ought to be functional enough to actually attend college.  And considering that the father figure’s original college funding idea involved sending the children, while they were all in their bald stage, out to a street corner with a sign saying “Help me pay for my cancer treatment.” His theory was it wasn’t actually dishonest because who knew? Maybe they would end up studying something in college that led to some sort of treatment. I think he was supposed to be a politician.

The next gal was better at her job. She started her conversation off with “You have such beautiful children.” Now that will always get my attention. She continued on “All so different, yet so lovely.” Now I’m really listening. I’m used to people commenting on my red heads, generally while referencing all my kids. To actually make eye contact with Baba and tell her she’s beautiful guarantees I will like you. So she smiled at them all, and delighted in X-Man’s spectacular curls, and then launched into her sell. They are still looking for red heads, boys and girls, although all my children are beautiful enough to be stars. (Man, she was good.) But again, the question “Do you want to be in the movies” was directed to Baba. “No not really. I’d rather play soccer.” Cha-chin!

Not to be deterred, as we walked off Baby started to tell me how she totally wanted to be a star and be in movies except that the minute they turned on the cameras she would totally freak out. Sadly, Baby’s Italian mannerisms just don’t translate onto paper. She was mid-sentence describing how she would handle her stage fright when she saw some glittery flip flops and was promptly distracted.

And so, I am neither the bad guy who squashes my little girls’ dreams nor the stage mom who failed her children. Now that’s what I call WINNING!