In which my innner girlie not only gets loose, but goes rampaging thro Mothercare.

[hellison]

So, all my life I have hated all things pink and girlie. Can't stand the stuff, won't wear it or have any truck with it.

Go to Mothercare at lunchtime, cleverly phoning my mother to see what *she* bought so we don't duplicate and asking what Karen actually needs, rather than heading for the sea of Tiny Pink Things ahead of me. Plain and white, I am thinking, practical and sensible.

And then suddenly, from nowhere, OMG THEY HAVE TINY TINY PINK SHOES.
Note I didn't just think this. I squealed it down the phone, stunning my poor mother into silence. However she recovered bravely, said BABYGROS and hung up.

So I bought babygros. Pink ones. And a pink trouser suit thing. And shoes (not pink tho ;p). And a dress - also not pink, lilac. And a blanket (ok yes, a pink one). And a teddy bear.

Karen is going to kill me.

Comments

[whit-merule.livejournal.com]

Actually, the thing that makes me even more gooey than babies is baby clothes. Little booties in shops and so on. And crochet patterns for little lacy woollen garments. Made of soft baby wool.

I much suspect the main reason I want a baby is so I can dress it up.

[hellison.livejournal.com]

Hah, just wait til the little treasure has a kicking and screaming fit for every piece of clothing you try to put on him, including desperate escape attempts while you try to change a nappy leading to BOTH of you needing showers. At 6.30am.