I’ve spent this early bonus week home from work getting our shit together. Baby clothes are washed and stored and the stuffed animals have been separated by their animal kingdom classifications. What kind of parent would I be if I put an invertebrate next to an elephant, or allowed a stuffed dolphin to become cozy with a bear? One who doesn’t respect the taxonomic hierarchy, that’s what kind.

(So inappropriate for a child.)

Today I bought the Redhead one of those pillow things with arms for sitting up in bed. While I don’t have a overindulgent image of Target product quality, I think this thing is small and kind of cheap. Now, is that the truth of it, or is it that I just haven’t seen the one my mom had in 20 years and I’m remembering it bigger? Everything we’ve bought is little. Is all of this stuff that tiny, or is it a question of scale? After 3 days of washing miniature socks, newborn T shirts and onesies, my perspective is totally skewed. I feel like a giant. It’s all just so…. small. 

We have little soaps, little toothbrushes, little hats… everything around me is little. Call me Gulliver Blogs. The little Lilliputian due to arrive in a week or so won’t help. At least there won’t be confusion over who’s socks are whose.

It’s Little’s world. I’m just getting it ready and coping. So long as Daddy gets a BIG beer every now and again, Little can have the rest.