The hilariously chaotic quest to find a safe lil baby album

I was sitting in the dark at half past midnight on a Tuesday, entirely covered in what I deeply hoped was just pureed parsnip from dinner, trying to complete a simple parental task. The twins, Florence and Matilda, had finally passed out after an hour of aggressive, tag-team resistance to sleep, and I decided this was the perfect moment to be sentimental. I opened my laptop, intending to find a lovely, linen-bound memory book to document their first steps, their first teeth, and the myriad of ways they've systematically dismantled my sanity. I casually typed "lil baby album cover" into the search bar, hoping for some tasteful, minimalist aesthetic inspiration.

Instead, I was immediately assaulted by high-definition, aggressively lit photos of Dominique Armani Jones—better known to the entire world (except apparently me) as the Grammy-winning trap artist Lil Baby—flanked by heavy artillery, stacks of cash, and explicit parental advisory stickers. I stared at the screen, bleary-eyed, wondering if I had somehow hallucinated an entire subgenre of hip-hop out of pure sleep deprivation.

If you're a tired parent attempting to curate some sweet family memories on the internet, you should probably know that the search landscape is a complete pop culture minefield. You're not going to get acid-free paper and cute storks; you're going to get discographies, tour dates, and intense debates about flow and lyricism.

The rapper in the living room

It turns out that trying to buy a lil baby album online requires very specific search modifiers, unless you want your targeted ads for the next six months to be an unhinged mix of organic nappies and diamond encrusted grills. My mum, who lives in Yorkshire and uses the internet exclusively to look at weather forecasts and pictures of other people's dogs on Facebook, recently told me she had found a "lovely little baby playlist" on Spotify for the girls to listen to in the car.

I had to physically intercept her phone before she blasted a track about moving weight through Atlanta to a pair of two-year-olds who still cry when the toaster pops up too quickly. It's an easy mistake to make, honestly, considering the rapper's moniker sounds like something you'd embroider on a blanket.

The internet is currently buzzing with rumors about the leaks lil baby album scheduled to drop sometime in 2025, which has entirely ruined my ability to casually Google for new photo sleeves without encountering music industry drama. Florence doesn't care about leaked tracklists; she only cares about whether I've hidden the cheese string. But navigating this digital weirdness did force me to confront why I was so desperately trying to buy a physical photo book in the first place, rather than just letting all my memories rot in the cloud.

Why the phone gallery is ruining my life

My health visitor, a spectacularly blunt woman who looks like she has survived three wars and a local toddler playgroup, heavily implied during our last check-up that handing my phone to the girls so they can swipe through photos is basically melting their frontal lobes. I don't pretend to understand the actual mechanics of blue light or dopamine loops—there was something vaguely mentioned about retinal damage and sleep hormones that I definitely didn't absorb properly—but I do know that digital screens turn my otherwise sweet daughters into feral, vibrating goblins.

Whenever I try to show them a picture of their grandparents on my phone, they manage to exit the photo app, accidentally order £40 of overpriced sushi on Deliveroo, and somehow initiate a FaceTime call with my dentist, all in the span of four seconds. We desperately needed a physical object they could touch and hold. Tangible things apparently help build their cognitive recognition without the frantic, rapid-fire stimulation of a scrolling screen.

Digital photo frames are just televisions for people who miss the year 2004.

The terrifying anatomy of a traditional memory book

So, I went into town to buy a physical book, which proved to be its own unique nightmare. Have you actually looked at a traditional scrapbook recently? They're essentially Victorian death traps masquerading as sentimental keepsakes. I picked one up in a high street shop and was immediately horrified by the mechanics.

First, there are the metal binder rings that snap shut with the violent force of a bear trap, perfectly designed to amputate a tiny, exploring finger. Then there are those cheap plastic photo sleeves that smell aggressively like a swimming pool factory. I barely passed secondary school chemistry, but our doctor once muttered something about cheap PVC plastics off-gassing volatile organic compounds into the home, which sounds like something that shouldn't be anywhere near a teething toddler who explores the world entirely through their mouth.

And let's not forget the small, glued-on decorative beads and metal corner protectors that are basically just colorful choking hazards waiting to be pried off and ingested while you've your back turned for three seconds to make a cup of tea. Please just bypass these terrifying contraptions entirely and throw your money at something soft and bound in fabric that won't result in a panicked trip to A&E when your kid inevitably tries to eat it.

If you're trying to curate a life that looks even slightly put together and doesn't involve toxic plastics, have a browse through Kianao’s baby accessories before you lose your mind entirely in the high street shops.

What the subjects of your photography are wearing

If you're going to go through the immense hassle of taking photos, printing them at that infuriating kiosk in Boots that never connects to your phone properly, and putting them in an album, you usually want the babies to look presentable. This is a joke, of course, because my twins are perpetually sticky. I don't even know what they're sticky with half the time. It’s an atmospheric stickiness.

But occasionally, my wife likes to dress them up for "milestone" photos. We got the Flutter Sleeve Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit Ruffled Infant Romper for this exact purpose. The flutter sleeves are, honestly, ridiculously cute for the exact three-minute window before Florence manages to smear an entire banana into the shoulder ruffle. It's lovely.

But the actual reason I tolerate the extra laundry is the fabric. Matilda gets these angry, red, unexplained rashes on her neck whenever we put her in cheap polyester blends, which my exhausted brain suspects is some sort of contact dermatitis, though the GP usually just shrugs and tells us to use a lighter moisturizer. The organic cotton on this bodysuit actually seems to breathe, and the rash mysteriously vanishes when she wears it, so we basically have it on constant rotation. Plus, the stretchy envelope neck means I don't have to compress her head like a melon to get it off when there’s an inevitable nappy blowout.

When the memory book becomes lunch

The main issue with showing a physical baby album to an actual baby is that they don't care about the emotional resonance of the photograph; they only care about how the corner of the book feels against their aggressively erupting gums. Teething in our house has been an endless marathon of drool, misery, and chewing on inappropriate household items, including the coffee table leg and my actual kneecap.

To preserve the family photos, you've to offer a decoy. Our absolute saving grace has been the Panda Teether Silicone Baby Bamboo Chew Toy. I'm violently attached to this little piece of silicone. Most teethers are either too thick for them to actually get into their mouths or they’re shaped so awkwardly that they drop them onto the filthy pavement every four seconds. This one has a flat, handle-like shape that their tiny, uncoordinated hands can seriously grip.

The texture on it seems to hit the exact spot where the molars are trying to ruin our lives, and it’s made of food-grade silicone, so I don't have to lie awake at night worrying if I'm accidentally poisoning them with phthalates. I just chuck it in the dishwasher when it gets covered in dog hair. If you're dealing with a screaming, drooling gremlin, just buy one. It won't make them sleep through the night, but it might stop them from trying to eat your family memories.

Distractions for the perfect shot

Sometimes you need them to sit still long enough to really take the photos for the lil baby albums you're trying to fill. We've tried various floor toys to keep them planted in one spot.

We picked up the Gentle Baby Building Block Set a while ago. They're perfectly fine. The brand describes them as having 'macaron colors', which is just a highly aspirational way of saying they're pastel, but they do look quite nice scattered across the rug. The main benefit is that they're soft rubber, meaning when I inevitably step on one while sneaking to the kitchen at 2 AM for a medicinal biscuit, I don't wake the entire postcode with my screaming.

Do they use them to build things? Absolutely not. Florence mostly uses them to hit Matilda, and Matilda uses them to assert dominance over the cat. But they're supposedly BPA-free and they float in the bath, so they serve their purpose as a colorful distraction while I desperately wave my camera phone around trying to get them to look in the same direction.

Ultimately, the quest to document their childhood is exhausting, messy, and fraught with weird internet searches and toxic plastic hazards. But looking back at the photos, even the blurry ones where they're mostly just an elbow and a screaming face, does make the sleep deprivation feel marginally less soul-crushing.

Before you dive into the murky waters of the internet again and end up buying a mixtape by mistake, explore our full collection of sustainable baby gear to find things that genuinely make your parenting life slightly easier.

Unsolicited answers to questions you might have

How do I explain to my mum that Lil Baby is a rapper and not a nursery rhyme compilation?
Just take her phone away. Don't try to explain trap music or Atlanta hip hop culture to a woman who still thinks 'The Beatles' were a bit too loud. Just quietly delete her Spotify search history, redirect her to a playlist of white noise, and change the subject to the weather. It will save everyone a lot of stress.

Are plastic photo sleeves seriously toxic to babies?
I mean, I'm not a biochemist, but anything that smells like a freshly opened shower curtain probably shouldn't be chewed on by an infant. Cheaper plastics often use PVC, which can off-gas some seriously unpleasant stuff. If your baby is at the stage where everything goes in the mouth, try to find fabric-bound, soft albums made specifically for toddlers to handle, or just keep the traditional family albums out of their immediate reach until they stop tasting the furniture.

At what age will they stop trying to eat the family photos?
If my twins are any indication, somewhere around university age. Seriously though, the intense mouthing phase usually peaks around 12 to 18 months, right alongside the worst of the teething. Until then, you either accept that the corners of your memory book will be damp, or you hand them a silicone teether to gnaw on while you turn the pages for them.

Do I really need to print photos anymore?
Need to? No. But relying entirely on your phone means your kid’s primary experience of looking at their own history involves staring at a blue light-emitting screen while notifications from your group chats pop up over their newborn photos. A physical book is something they can drag around, point at, and engage with physically, which apparently does wonders for their spatial awareness and vocabulary. Plus, it won't run out of battery when you're trapped on a train.

Why does my baby get a red rash from normal clothes during photo shoots?
A lot of those ridiculously cute, highly structured baby outfits you see on Instagram are made from cheap synthetic fibers that trap heat and sweat against their insanely delicate skin. My kids break out the second they wear polyester for more than twenty minutes. Sticking to organic cotton lets their skin breathe and stops that horrible friction rash, meaning you won't have to try and Photoshop out angry red patches from all your pictures.