Life is hard when you’re a baby. Wake at 7:30, cry at 7:40, suckle at 8, “spit up” at 8:30, sleep at 9, wake up at 11, poop at noon, cry at 12:10, stare at a black and white mobile that won’t stop its goddamn spinning at 12:50, smile at 3 and sleep again at 7. It’s an incredibly demanding schedule that should inspire special perks at the end of the day. But the plight of the modern baby has generally been overlooked by society ... until now.

Bienvenue, Baby Massage!

Let’s get a few things straight. New mothers are generally hysterical: fact. Newborns are generally needy: fact. New boho / yuppie-chic mothers dig holistic care for their babes-in-arm: yeah, basically fact. So, giving your newborn a daily massage seems to fit comfortably into the United States’ impulse to do shit that doesn’t do much (i.e. shaving poodles to look like camels, pandas, et. al.; celebrating “Sweetest Day”; celebrating “Presidents’ Day”; saying “I love you,” etc.).

But is Baby Massage really a load of baby crap, or could it — at least in theory — do some good? I turned to the most impartial of all websites on the subject, Babymassage.com, to see what I could find. Besides pictures of infantile foreheads being gently caressed by fingers that were larger than said babies’ eyes and noses put together, the website featured a calming Comic Sans Bold script, inviting me to read the pros (no cons — no way!) of massaging a babe’s bum.

Babymassage.com posits that massaging one’s newborn is a more direct route to maternal-infantile bonding. By taking this extra time to lavish your babe with even more attention (more attention than is socially acceptable, in fact), she more quickly accustoms herself to your touch and to your voice. Additionally, her little muscles, exhausted from a rigorous day of living, receive much-needed rest and relaxation. What’s more, Baby Massage apparently also helps eliminate colic by increasing blood flow to the babe’s tum. Ooh! Score, score and score!

To deliver the massage, they first suggest warming up the massage receiver (i.e. one’s progeny) by rubbing her back. Then, like any good massage, the massage giver, when ready, should smear one’s hands with massage oil or lotion and move in little concurrent circles or figure eights over Baby’s body.

But you might be thinking: What if I push too hard? What if I hurt Baby? Don’t worry about that. This ain’t no deep tissue — just a little rub-a-dub. And besides, a baby is kind of like a turkey with an automatic temperature gauge inside: she will let you know when she’s done. A newborn, lacking any linguistic capability, will start screaming if you push too hard. And if you’ve heard a baby scream before, then you know that it is like the most effective fire alarm: blaring and to the point.

Still, to ease both the receiver’s and giver’s possible anxiety about this whole baby-rubbing thing, the website also suggests a mother to softly speak to her child, discussing anything — from the weather to how she hopes Baby repays the massage favor in mom’s old age. Once the infant is greasier than a guido in a tanning bed and its ears are full of subliminal messages, the massage is complete.

Your baby will thus be bonded tighter to you than superglue on fingers; and isn’t that what you want now that your five-month-old is your only friend?

Even though Babymassage.com offers little criticism to the practice of, I see nothing essentially wrong with these massages, either — except that it’s a pretty ludicrous concept. Not to mention the psychological and physical benefits are relatively uncorroborated — except by the ladies who wrote the website in freakin’ Comic Sans MS (who does that?) and by this other dude who I didn’t bother looking up, but whose last name was Field (Ooh, BFD — you’re such a big shot I can’t even find your first name on the internet).

Regardless of where you might stand on the not-really-heated Baby Massage debate, the point remains: shouldn’t every (privileged) baby deserve extra pampering once in a while?

Babymassage.com’s point exactly.