When it first really sank in that I was going to be the primary caretaker for an infant for significant portions of each week day, I think that Shelbi's and my biggest fear was identical. It wasn't that I would forget to feed him or that I would routinely leave Einstein the dog in charge while I ran to the store, it was that the clothes I picked out for Elliott would not allow him to reach full cuteness potential on a given day.

Shelbi's fears were well-founded. I have never particularly been known for my fashion sense. From 7th grade through my junior year in high school I wore nothing but jeans and solid color pocket T-shirts as a means to draw as little attention as possible to myself. Of course I did not anticipate my new L.A. Gear tennis shoes being referred to as "L.A. Queers" once in gym glass which led to buy nothing but Nikes for the next 5 years. My senior year in high school I mixed it up a bit with the occasional flannel shirt, a solid 2 years after grunge stopped being cool. To this day I still prefer to do the bulk of my clothes shopping at thrift stores unless Shelbi gets me into an Old Navy and pulls the old "I am forcing you to buy one nice shirt or I'm spending $200 on myself" routine.

Needless to say, even as a fetus, Elliott had far better clothes than I did and, now that he is actually born, his wardrobe options are a bit overwhelming. I once tried to put football socks on him while he was wearing a safari shirt.

"They're socks. I'm not even wearing matching socks as we speak" was my reasoning."

"But he has safari socks," came the retort that could not be argued with.

But I'd like to think I've come a long way. The first day that I took Elliott out with me I was pretty impressed with myself. He had a clean baby blue onesie on and a fairly sporting pair of overalls. His socks matched his onesie (yeah, that's right), he had his velcro shoes and, as the coup de grace, a jean jacket with a teddy bear emblem. Not... too... shabby. Shelbi got home later that afternoon and I held up the boy for inspection.

"The denim in his coat doesn't match the denim in his overalls."
Sigh.