I think I’m doing enough worrying for all of us, but what will become of Q. Wallis and her puppy purse?
Wait, though.
What was in that purse, anyway? A Lip Smackers chapstick and a baggy full of dry Cheerios? Could her mother not hold on to that, or was her purse too full of her daughter’s money that she’ll hold on to until she’s 18 or legally emancipated, which ever comes first?
I apologize for all the questions, but I don’t think any of us, including that child’s mother, are looking out for this girl.
We’re all realistic about Honey Boo Boo and where that is headed, but just because Q isn’t swilling Go-Go Juice and snorting pixie sticks at her mother’s behest, that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to end up the same way (being exploited by Dr. Drew).
Have we all just forgotten Tatum O’Neal? She’s not just that awful lady who shoe-shames Carrie on that one episode of Sex and the City. She’s Tatum O’Neal, 10 year old Oscar winner for Paper Moon. By 12, she was with Melanie Griffith having hash fueled orgies in Paris. That’s a pretty quick turn around. Grant it, I’m pretty sure since Drew Barrymore left rehab you’re not allowed to give 10 year olds cocaine and a Manhattan for a job well done at the Spy Kids wrap party, but I still don’t trust Q Wallis around those Hollywood vultures.
Even if she never touched a bottle of Go-Go Juice her entire life, I still don’t have high hopes for her as an adult. You can’t nominate a 9 year old for an Oscar and not expect her to be the kind of person who throws Quinoa salad at her assistant because she forgot to ask for chickpeas on the side. By 9, you’re beginning to enter your character building years where you develop a sense of humor or other pleasing personality traits that distract from how crooked your teeth are. Q has an Oscar. That’s her compensatory personality trait. She can basically just stop developing and maturing as a human being right now. She probably has already dropped those “please” and “thank you’s” from her vocabulary all together. She can just say “HUNGRY” and bang her Austin Film Critics Association Award on the table until some PA magically appears with a Happy Meal. Someone should have told her that making muscle arms when they say your name at the Oscars is unseemly and doesn’t display a lot of humility. Instead, Giuliana Rancic goes on and on about how adorable it was sealing her fate as a future high maintenance, disagreeable grown-up child actor.
Maybe I’m worrying for nothing. Or maybe Elle Fanning is offering Q her first frozen pina colada at The Rainforest Cafe while we sit idly by thinking nothing’s wrong.
