I’ve finally figured out the premise for the show I’m going to pitch to the networks next year: it’s "Hot Air Balloon Baby," the adventures of a bouncing bundle joy who consistently manages to steal away in hot air balloons and go on adventures. "We don’t know how he keeps finding these balloons," says the mom (Sara Rue). "Every time he comes back it’s in a different one. We’re keeping them in the garage." And the baby will have an arch-nemesis, too. His name is "The Baron," and he is also a baby. Only the show won’t really be about the baby, especially since I think the CW won’t give me the budget to film high-flying adventures in foreign lands. No, instead "Hot Air Balloon Baby" will be more about the baby’s family and how it copes with his absence while he’s in God-knows-where. Just trying to live their lives, not knowing when the balloon will once again land on the backyard gazebo and deliver the plucky tyke back into their eager hands. At least I know how every episode will end.
I swear, this is such a better idea than "Spit Baby."