I don't know if it's possible to save the soul of someone during the 15 seconds it takes to read a greeting card, but they're certainly going try. Within this card's peaceful exterior lies a barrage of religious quotes, information about Jesus, and so very many prayers. Hey-when someone says they're praying for you, do you have to pray back? Why do you need so many prayers in the first place? Maybe you like the life you're living. I mean who needs Eternal salvation when you have Xbox Live? It's like, stop judging me God. F*ck it, pass the egg nog.
A lot of things can happen over the course of a year and they're going to share every single one of them with you. Promotions, vacations, and brief forays into taking a pottery class are described with thoroughness usually reserved for Faulkner novels. How many pages is this thing? Two pages is too many pages to feign interest in a 6th grader's soccer season. And baby Katie's favorite subject this year is math? Bullshit. Katie helped set the table for Thanksgiving and that girl can't count for shit.
So how long do you think they sat there with their Powershot on auto-timer, hoping for a shot with the cats all looking at the camera? There's no way they knocked this out in less than 45 minutes of cat-corralling. And is that a 3rd cat? That explains all their hinting about a "new addition to our family." Oh man, Barren Karen is NOT going to appreciate the gift certificate to Babies R Us you got her.
I get it, babies are precious bundles of joy and happiness and light and can you please just put some pants on that thing?! If you're going to insist on sending out pictures of your baby, at least put them in a flower pot the way God and Anne Geddes intended. There is an acceptable level of nudity for holiday postcards being sent through the mail and that number, regardless of age, is zero.