Supermom

Julie's mom took her shopping today. The only thing they didn't come home with is a baby.

Seriously, it's pre-birth and this kid has more clothes than I do. True, they're very small clothes, but I could probably rip out all the stitching and sew them into a week's worth of adult-sized summer onesies, complete with butt flaps.

Tempting.

Julie isn't a clothes horse; she's more carnivorous about it. She's a clothes wolverine. And now she's transferring that trait to our child. Which is okay with me. When she gave me the 20-minute tour through the contents of those massive Babies R Us bags, it was clear that she (and/or her mom) put thought into each item. My job was to nod. I can nod.

You know when you order drive-through and ask for ketchup or something, and you get every condiment available? The worker swipes his hand through the condiment trough and tosses them all in. That would have been me at Babies R Us. Grab two of these, one of those, who cares, two more of those, and off to Best Buy two stores down. It's not even born yet, so to me it's like buying clothes for Harvey the Rabbit.

But with this creature actually growing in her, I totally understand how Julie has humanized it to the point that she's excited about clothes. It's nesting; I've read about it. I've also read that the father begins to comprehend the situation the second the squirming, slimy thing is handed to him.

Until then, my plan is to keep my mouth shut and try not to act like a big baby.