It all began innocently with a morning jog to the park. The Sheriff did his riding with eyes on the sky for birds or planes. (We have yet to see Superman!)
Momma had my fav. wee bit dressed in his 4th of July romper to bring some USA spirit into the house for the World Cup semis match, and he was sporting BLUE baby crocs (which are the cutest things by the way).
I came across a grandmother pushing twins in a stroller as we were playing and walking around the playground, and she commented about how "beautiful" my baby was on her first lap. Second lap she became braver I suppose and used the word "she."
See The Sheriff:
Clearly a boy. At least Momma think so. I wasn't so much offended. Let's be honest; the boy does have a beautiful face! :)
Yes, he's got curls.
Yes, he's a lean mean peek-a-booing machine.
Yes, he's in a romper, not blue jeans or cargo shorts.
And you see, it's going to stay that way. He's a BABY. Yes, he's close to a toddler or maybe already even a toddler according to some. But even then, a TODDLER. He's only going to be this age once; why push him to grow up too fast? I want to live each age in the moment.
He'll have plenty of fashion choices later that will annoy the grits out of Cowboy and me (flat billed hats mayhaps?). He's simply going to grow up before we can blink, so right now I'm going to have him dress the part, the part of a 12-month-old boy exploring the world with absolute amazement.
My latest read describes her son's room which "smelled of boy." And she writes, "Boy is a good smell it is a cross between angels and tigers." Yep. Nailed it, and I tell myself each and every day to suck it all in.
(That is one heck of a romper! Cue Lee Greenwood and bring a girl some pot lids already!)