Barron’s Favorite Bedtime Stories

Sunday, March 4th, 2018

Published 3 weeks ago -

I will tell you truth.  People write to me, they say:  “Melania, how is it you can be such a normal, regular, normal mother?  How do you, as glamorous first lady, the most best beautiful one ever, balance your role as supermodel first lady who must talk to poor people with that of being mom to your son Barron who is your son with Donald Trump who is very rich?”  So I will share a little secret.  Best time to be with Barron is when he has had his Ibuprofin PM to help him sleep and his helping-lady gets him all tucked into his bed and he’s ready for Story Time!

Here is more secret:  Story Time is favorite of all Barron’s things we do because unlike when his helping-lady or helping-man reads to him, it is I, his mother who is most beautiful first lady ever, who is making up the stories.  I make them, he listens.  So sweet!

It is true also that now that Barron is eleven he sometimes reads books all by himself without help from his helping-lady or helping-man.  Even so, every now and then, Barron turns to me and with wide eyes says: “Beautiful Mother, please tell me a made-up story.”  As my word is my bond, I tell you, here are some of Barron’s favorite stories.

Number One Favorite Bedtime Story:

“Mummy, tell me story of how you and Daddy met.”

Oh!  How he loves this story, which I now pass on to you, because we want the children of this nation to know that the only limits of their achievements is the strength of their dreams and their willingness to work for them.  So I say to Barron: “I met your father when I was in New York, I was young, I had just finished my graduate degree in architecture, I mean agriculture—oop! I mean anthropology—in Ljubljana, and then off I go to Milan, for photo-shoot, and then I go to hot spot in New York where I did not do cocaine and did not drink three vodka martinis and did not call that slut Celina Midelfart who was going after Donald a fart, that was just a rumor.  Suddenly, there he was, tall and young for 53 and just so—just so rich!   So so rich.  He was richer than anyone in my entire country!  He was richer than my entire country put together! And also he wasn’t fat yet.  He wasn’t even a little bit disgusting, not really—anyway, if you close your eyes and think about George Clooney, even sex is—sorry!  When you’re older, I will tell!  So that’s how I met your daddy and eight years later he gave me twelve-carat diamond ring!  Fairy tale come true for Mummy!

Number Two Favorite Bed Time Story:

“Mummy, tell me about what happened after I was born.”

This is another story Barron love me to tell.  When he very little, he beg and beg for this story, and I tell it many times, but now is time to tell the entire nation of Make America Grow.  So yes, I have Barron.  It was not nice, of course.  Having baby is disgusting. It make me stomach big, ruin my 38-26-37, never again!  That what Jews, say too:  never again!  So for me, Melania, I say:  get that thing away from me! Never again!  I in hospital with baby Barron, much better when baby get out, and already I worry:  what if Donald put that thing in me again?  What if he says, “We made deal, and I will sue if you don’t fulfill your contract obligations?”  After all, that what my Donald best at doing: suing.  He been in more than 3500 lawsuits!  That’s more than my entire country!  So I know he mean it when he ready to “ruin” me.  Then I get lucky!  So so lucky!  Because just as I home in pretty house with gold furniture which I love because it’s gold and so pretty, Donald in Florida doing the bad-thing with stripper!  I don’t know who she is just that she takes clothes off for money, ha ha, so many girls take clothes off for my Donald!  I have beautiful newborn baby boy and like all new mothers, I am so so tired, and do not want to nurse him, my breasts need to return to normal size and if milk come out, that make me sag.  He get bottle from lady from Mexico, I can’t remember her name, Donald said it doesn’t matter, she’s from shit-hole country, so I can watch my favorite TV shows. Happy ending!  Melania has beautiful baby boy, Barron, and Donald can fuck Stormy as much as he like, I wonder how much money she’s getting from him, but in end I don’t care, because Donald can always sue and make more money!

Happy Bedtime Story Number Three:

“Beautiful Mummy, tell me about how you help poor people.”

Poor people are simply people like Donald and me except they don’t have any money and that is because they are lazy and stupid, and maybe also they never bother to learn American good like your Mummy. So of course, as FLOTUS I am in long line of ladies who try to help not just good, white, Christian Americans but also peasants, like that one time, I had to go to Houston, which is a very big city in Texas.  They call it “city” but really it more like—like I don’t know.  Like too many people with brown skin and they talk funny!  This place really America?  Not like Fifth Avenue!  Not like Palm Beach!  Why Houston even in America? Should be behind Wall that my Donald is building!  Too many peasants who speak Mexican, not American at all, and also, the weather! It make my hair frizz so disgusting.  But lady-helper say: “Melania, you go.  They have problem there. You go smile!”  I wear my favorite Manolos stilettos, four inch-heels. So important to show the peasants to look good.  Poor peasants, their huts filled with water. So much water.  Houston is bad place.  I hate it. Reading is also important for learning so as First Lady of America I make sure schools in nice places like Upper East Side of Manhattan and Beverly Hills have good books for schools!

Happy good story Number Four:

“Mummy who I love so much because you are so beautiful, intelligent, and good, tell me about time you go to meet the King’s counsel.”

Once upon a time (this is how I always start  the story of when I went to the King’s counsel) there was a great great King, who in his great goodness spent most of his days and night informing himself of the troubles of the land, and also, eating cheeseburgers, food fit only for mighty Kings! But there was trouble in the land.  For one thing, Mexicans came and didn’t speak American!  Also, there were black people all over the land, killing, shooting, robbing, and doing other things that black people do because they are black and not white.  But perhaps what made the mighty King saddest of all was that his very own Counsel was plotting against him—so the King, because he had a stout and brave heart, decided to meet the entire Counsel of 535 men and lesbians and their cohorts, and address them in person.  And so the great evening came when the King—who is your very own daddy, King Donald—threw his mighty mane and spoke to them from his stout heart, telling them all that was happening in the Kingdom, all that concerned him about the evil ways of Mexicans and Muslims and FBI directors and others who would plot to take the Kingdom down. So you can only imagine how every eye would fall on me, his beautiful third Queen who is 5 feet 11 inches tall with a D cup and is also 24 years younger than the King, and by the way he really does weight 240 pounds and his oldest child, that stupid boy Donald Jr., is like three years younger than me, which kind of grosses me out, but—as I was saying, it was so important to be especially beautiful that night, so when the royal wardrobe mistress laid out a white pants suit that glittered like—like it was very expensive, which it was because the outfit with Christian Dior pants and white Dolce Gabbana and Christian Louboutin stilettos cost a shit-load, lots and lots of thousands of dollars—I said:  yes!  Yes! Yes!  And then I wore it:  and all eyes were on me, your royal Mummy. Because nothing says “fuck you, Donald,” like a white pantsuit.

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