When the baby was born, my cousin Regina generously passed on some baby clothes for him to wear, since we were woefully unprepared in that department. I was very grateful for this wardrobe, although, my husband had one quibble with it. The clothes were decidedly pro-Mommy:
Not that Steve was anti-Mommy, but he just felt a little bit left out. So, for Christmas, “the baby” (i.e. me) bought “himself” (i.e. the dad) a onesie that proudly declared the existence of and approval of Daddy:
(In case you can’t see it, it says “If you think I"m cute, you should see my Daddy,” which is much less objectionable, in my opinion, to ones that say things like “Sexy like mommy.”)
Anyway, things were even for awhile, until someone who shall go nameless but, to give you a hint, gave birth to the father of my son, started getting in on the act. First she sent us this:
That’s true. No problem. But then things started to get a little bit more aggressive:
Daddy’s Rookie. This implies that there are teams in this house and that Paul is on Daddy’s team. Also, since he is Daddy’s Rookie, what does that make me? Daddy’s journeyman veteran who is about to be put out to pasture? Then look what happens:
Daddy’s ALL-STAR? Wow, that happened quickly. (Also, interesting how the baby gets #36. I wonder if it was retired in honor of all babies, sort of like #42 was for Jackie Robinson.)
Wait, how did this get in here? I just want to point out that “Mommy” is apparently a big smiling dinosaur.
Finally, we got this:
So, to sum up: according to my son’s wardrobe, Daddy is: cute; loving; the owner of a successful team that represents at the All-Star game; awesome. Mommy is: in possession of a big guy.
That’s fine, Daddy. Your day is coming up, after all, anyway. I suppose you are pretty awesome. Happy Fathers Day from the big smiling dino.
