In the beginning

Last week he missus was insistent that we purchase a stroller and playpen prior to junior's arrival. I was content letting her carry him around. I mean in the olden days women used to give birth and then get right back to work in the fields; it seems to me the least she could do is carry him around until he starts walking.

So I put my foot down and explained to her that there wasn't any way in hell we were going out and blowing money on a stroller, playpen, etc... that she was just gonna have to buck up and carry him around for a little while. Boy howdy are women these days getting lazier by the minute.

Later on that night as we're out buying a stroller, she's making sure that everything matches. By everything I mean the stroller has to match the playpen which has to match the highchair which has to match the swing that matches the car seat and all this matches the sheets and other crap that goes with the crib.

For the first few months of the boy's life he'll be surrounded by matching baby accessories. It's not just the travel gear, outfits come complete from head to toe with the perfect accessories, or so I've been told. This folks is how metrosexuals are created, not that there's anything wrong with being a metrosexual. There's no good reason for it, that I can see. Just what the hell's wrong with lettin' junior pick out his clothes? I mean, it worked perfectly fine for me until I got married a lifetime ago.

So we get home and the missus decided we should put the stroller together, and by we I mean me, as she's barking out orders and giggling about how cute it is. From there we, and by we I mean her, started organizing the nursery. After several ill-advised attempts at helping to arrange junior's wardrobe the missus is planning to implement a barcode or numbering system to ensure his outfits match should I be left unsupervised and he requires dressing. Apparently 'au natural' or diaper only isn't a viable option.

As a diversion the "R" Us brands of stores could make a killing by setting up a lounge and serving adult beverages to the refugees, namely the fathers and expectant fathers that get roped in going to hell on earth. Just think how much happier everybody would be. The ladies could roam about the range freely, fulfilling their urge to hunt and gather; while the men could relax in a pleasant atmosphere and comfort each other with war stories.

At some point in the near future I'll be headed out to buy several pairs of overalls for the boy. Really that and a couple of flannel shirts is all he'll need when we leave the house. If it's hot, overalls with no shirt, if it's cold, put on a flannel. For attire around the house, shouldn't kids be allowed to roam freely in as natural a state as possible? Thus the diaper only theory of dressing. The missus for some reason has already objected to this approach, damned baby fashion Nazis they've already brain washed her, but what she doesn't know won't hurt me, too badly.