Baby Eric Adams announces he is running again.
Mayor Eric Adams toddled to the mic and made it plain: “I’m running.” He added, “and I’m going to beat Mamdani and I’m going to continue the success that’s this city has witnessed.” The baby newsroom gasped, then remembered to breathe through our nose so we don’t drool on the recorder.
He said the same nap-time haters keep telling him to quit. “It’s almost Groundhog Day, folks.” People keep saying “to step aside, to surrender, to give up, to give in.” He says regular babies don’t do that: “Everyday New Yorkers are not giving up, are not giving in, are not surrendering.” He says the mayor won’t either. No blankie thrown, no timeout taken.
Adams told the crib what comes next: “The voters will determine who’s the next mayor of this city.” He promised to respect the result. Then he hugged the whole playpen with words: “I love this city and I gave this city my all. And I’m going to continue to give them my all every day.” That’s a lot of all. Might need a second sippy cup.
He pitched himself as the working-class stroller pick. “Do you want a working-class mayor that’s like you? One who struggled like you? One who lived in poverty like you? One who wondered where your next meal will come from like you?”
Or, he asked, is the nursery going with the fancy babies: “two individuals who had it all and decided that the elitist would run this city and not a working-class mayor?” Blocks were clutched. Snacks were paused mid-chomp.
Then came a rattle-shaker: “Will you accept or reject the Trump offer?” The room squirmed. Reporters blurted half-questions through pacifiers: “What’s your evidence in…” and “Why aren’t you taking questions?” It got messy. Someone’s applesauce went airborne. Democracy is sticky.
Both Sides’ Reaction:
Babies who clapped: They like the fight. They hear a kid who won’t nap on the job. The “working-class mayor” line makes their little overalls feel seen. To them, the choice is simple: keep the bottle with the milk you know. They think his story—hard times, long crawl—means he’ll keep pushing strollers uphill and won’t hand the blocks to the “elitist” babies. They also nod when he says voters decide; that sounds fair in the sandbox.
Babies who threw their blocks: They say the speech felt like reruns—“Groundhog Day” wasn’t just a line; it was the playlist. They want fresh toys and a cleaner play mat, not more us-vs-them. Bringing up “the Trump offer” made some babies roll their eyes and ask where the actual blocks-and-numbers plan is. They worry he’s pointing at other cribs instead of showing new blueprints for this one.
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