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Revenge of the Nerds part XXVIII.

I finally understand why I’m the mother and Dear Hubby is the father.  It’s not because of science and how babies are made.  It’s the ability to dress our young so they don’t go out into the world and get eaten by the more fashionable babies.   I love my husband with every breath and heartbeat in my body.  He’s so intelligent it’s scary.  No really, I don’t want to know how his brain works sometimes.  He’s cute as a teddy bear and as snugly as one.  He’s a wonderful father, the best man I could have chosen for the job.  But there is one thing he seems to have failed at in life.  Fashion taste 101.  

His personal style is rather easy to maintain. Shorts and tee’s in the summer.  Polo shirts and jeans in the winter.  He’s a nicely fuzzed kind of guy so he’s usually not needing sweaters or anything beyond a long sleeve tee shirt in the winter.  And tennis clothes are easy to mix and match for men.  Simple, not flashy, but looks great on him.  When I met him he usually dressed in very neutral tones and could blend in with the wall color but, as soon as the relationship police would allow, I brightened up his tee shirt selection with some colors.  I never really knew how seriously lacking his knowledge was of style and fashion.  I just assumed he picked his wardrobe out of comfort and not because you can’t mess up tee shirts and jeans. I also now wonder if, before he met me, his closet was also added to by previous girl friends and not really himself.  Now I understand why when I ask him how something looks on me or which shoes he thinks I should wear he gives me some noncommittal answer that only upsets me, and makes me want to change clothes 5 more times.  It’s not because he’s doing the “guy thing” and trying to stay out of trouble.  He really, truly, honestly doesn’t have a clue. 

Where am I going with this you might ask?  Well, we now have a daughter.  A small, beautiful, growing person of the female persuasion.  An American girl and God forbid, one day a grown up woman.  Someone whom I’m looking forward to teaching about makeup and clothes and all those girly things. Oh, and SHOES! Dear Hubby and I have split the duties of when we take care of our little bundle of joy.  I’m more of a night owl so I get bedtime which includes the evening ritual of her last bottle and sometimes waiting and watching while she burns off her extra energy, which can take sometimes several hours.  Dear Hubby has mornings since I usually still have my head stuffed under a pillow when EJ is ready to greet the world for the day.  What that means is she is dressed by Daddy most of the time.  Do you see where I’m going now?  I may have taught Dear Hubby how to match colors ok, except for the day he put her in hot pink pants and a red shirt, but I forgot to teach him about prints.

Dear EJ, I’m so sorry your Daddy is lacking in the genetic tissue to be able to dress you like the rock star that you are.  One day when your all grown up you will appreciate the effort he put into making sure you had warm and comfortable clothes on each day.  Even if the color combinations and the mismatching prints burnt your retinas.  I promise, when you get older and you start to care about your personal style I will make sure I’m the one up in the mornings.  I also promise until that time I will do my best to keep your “bad clothes days” inside our doors.  When we go out in public I will always try to make sure you at least have colors that blend with each other.  I love you darling, and one day you and I both will look back on this and laugh.

 

EJ is modeling her hot pink striped shirt with her gray pants with pink hearts all over, and her multi-colored zig-zag striped socks.

EJ is modeling her hot pink striped shirt with her gray pants with pink hearts all over, and her multi-colored zig-zag striped socks.

 

Lewis and Gilbert from Revenge of the Nerds.

Lewis and Gilbert from Revenge of the Nerds.

 

 

I’m so glad that the only way she will remember this is from pictures.  And I’m so glad Dear Hubby doesn’t complain when I scoot into her nursery, when I hear over the monitor that its time to dress her, to pick out something too cute for her to wear when I know she going to be in public.   That way I can go back to bed knowing that I saved our daughter from another day of potentially getting the nick name of “nerd baby”.

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