There really should be more variation in the colors and designs of baby girl clothes. Those pink, cutesy outfits don’t just push girls toward princesshood, which is bad enough, but they also have the potential to break up my marriage. Like I don’t already have enough trouble communicating with my husband sometimes, just imagine a scenario in which I need to change Livia’s outfit and my husband is standing next to the dresser…
I’d say, “Could you grab the pink thing for me?”
He’d look in the drawer and say, “Which one? They’re all pink.”
So I’d say, “The one that’s got the white on it.”
With a hint of irritation in his voice, he’d say, “Which one? Half of them have white.”
Slightly exasperated, I’d attempt to clarify. “The one with the flowers!”
Totally bewildered now, he’d have rummaged through the entire drawer and tossed everything around, and to Hell with folding. “Um, a lot of these have flowers.”
“The one with the polka dots!” I’d shout.
“Honey, they’ve ALL got polka dots!”
At which point I’d have no choice but to stomp over and push him aside, saying, “Fine! I’ll get it myself!”
And it would all just go downhill from there.
Meanwhile, Marshall has only one off-white elephant shirt, only one black Hot Wheels shirt, only one brown-and-grey “Rock Star” shirt, and so forth.
Everyone told me that boys were easier. Maybe they were right.