In only seven months of parenting, already I have developed a can't-miss self-assessment for any occasion: (1) Is it safe? and (2) Is it potentially hilarious?
So far this has resulted in a series of entertaining events, from capturing Lindsay Lohan's return to rehab in the baby book ("What Happened the Day I Was Born? The Inevitable") to the Star Wars Build-a-Bear...ahem...incident.
Mercifully, my already-keen maternal instincts nixed the idea of dressing her as Jeffy, letting her wander the neighborhood, and painting little dashes in her wake.
HINT: The same person who doesn't think this is funny.
But my handy-dandy questionnaire came up short in the face of a weekend jaunt to the mall in sub-zero weather. I realized that it's missing one critical question: does doing this make me a douche? Y'see, I've been itching to buy the wee one a for-real-and-for-true cozy coat since she is over the bunting thing. I found the perfect, fuzzy, impenetrable solution. Cut to my kid wearing a North Face jacket.
It's too expensive [for someone who only recently attained neck control]. She doesn't run around with Richard Branson. She has no polar expeditions on the books. Plus, I told her, "No X Games until you stop being surprised by the sight of your own feet," so she doesn't need it. And while it's possible to rock a North Face without being incredibly annoying (I love mine...draw your own conclusions), it does happen. So I've done something entirely frivolous and possibly sealed her fate, all because a baby in a North Face jacket makes me giggle.
At least I have time to wash her brain with countless other mistakes. In the future, I'll try to spoil my daughter with poor judgment, not expensive jackets.
Infant Denali Jacket, $65 @ North Face
