Tremendous Opportunity.

Disney and the other so-called "children's entertainment" companies are excited about creating virtual worlds for kids online.

"There is a massive opportunity here,” said Steve Wadsworth, president of the Walt Disney Internet Group, in an interview last week with the New York Times.

Let's be clear - the "massive opportunity" Mr. Wadsworth is touting, is the opportunity to sell kids shit they don't need - and lots of it.

Apparently it's working:

“It’s really fun to buy whatever you want inside the game,” Nathaniel said in a telephone interview. For his penguin, “like for Christmas I bought a fireplace, a flat-screen TV and a Christmas tree,” he said.

Why does a penguin need a flat-screen TV if not only to convince a 9-year old boy that an overpriced television manufactured by a corporate affilitate is essential to his childhood?

The Holidays.

The Holidays started the week before X-mas this year when Auntie A, Girl Cousin and the In Laws came to stay with us for a few days. It was the first time for us to meet Girl Cousin, who was born just eight days after Number One. She was delightful.

The girls had tummy time together. It sucked for them.

Given the potential for disaster with two infants in our little house, everything went amazingly well. The babies slept through the nights for the most part, and I didn't even talk politics with Mother In Law.

Then it was off to the Big D for four days of holiday fun...

All started out well and good, though I have to admit that chillin' in the car with the Wife breastfeeding behind the Arby's was not something I foresaw myself doing a year ago.

We made it to Omi's house, and after a quick visit to visit Sister and Boy Cousin - who is 12 days older than Number One and who we had also not met - we settled in for a long winter's nap. Or at least as long as she had been sleeping, which at that point was about nine hours.

From there, the sleeping went downhill as we traveled across the Metroplex and Number One's whole world was increasingly disrupted. Before the trip, she was sleeping for nine hour stretches starting at around 9:30 p.m.

Now, I'm blogging at 5:30 a.m., and I've been up for two hours, so I can't say that we're quite back on track.

Other than the sleep issues, the Holiday was wonderful.

Number One was, of course, the Belle of the Ball, meeting a whole family she never knew she had. The generosity of the Family and the In Laws was beyond compare, and we all had a very good time.

SuperWife got me a homebrewing kit, which I plan to put into action this weekend. I'm sure there will be more on this later...

I even had my first really serious hangover since Number One's arrival. I'm blaming Pop and his cigars. (Poor decision making and terrible parenting on my part were the real culprit.)

Success.

I saved the whales.

Thank you, Japan, for responding to my request to not kill Humpback Whales. Now, could you please not kill the 1,000 other whales on your list?

Save the Whales.

Seriously, Japan, leave the whales alone.

I mean really, why do you need to kill Humpback Whales? For fuel oil? Just to be dicks about it?

"Save the Whales" is one of those phrases that gets thrown around like its the stupidest thing they've ever heard by people who are politically motivated to think destruction of the environment is cool.

But really, what's the problem with saving whales? It's not like it costs us anything. Or that the world can't survive without whale-based products. Or that we can't build a new suburb or Big Box shopping center because whales are in the way.

You don't even have to do anything to save the whales - except not kill them. (Not like recycling, which is such a pain in the lifestyle.)

There is literally no drawback to saving the whales.

So why the hate for the whale savers?

Programming note: Stay tuned for more of the adventures of Number One in the next episode when Girl Cousin and the G-Parents come to town.

Global Warming.

Just because Al Gore says global warming is happening, doesn't mean it's not.

Up, Down.

I got to tell you - the beginning of last week was not good. Mom and Number One were in a constant battle, it seemed. Was she eating enough? Too much? What was the problem?

So, Thursday we went to the Pediatrician - who is awesome by the way. Everything is fine. She's gaining weight. Babies are just like that. Call me next Tuesday if it's still horrible.

Since then, she's been a joy. Mom has been less stressed. Number One has been happy as a lark. She even rolled over from her tummy to back for the first time.

Parenthood is going to suck be really awesome.

China.

I don't like China. I know it's not very cool to say you don't like a whole country, but it's true. And it's not that I don't like Chinese people - the few I've met were perfectly fine people. And I'm all about the Eastern philosophies.

It's the Chinese Communist/Capitalist dictatorship that I don't like. It's an oppressive and nasty regime. And yet, the American government seems to tolerate it because a few multinationals are making a bazillion dollars taking advantage of what amounts to government slavery.

And then there's the environment.

Despite my best efforts to remain positive and believe that people are about to turn the corner and do the right thing, stories about China always depress me. When I read about China, it's hard for me not to get discouraged to the point of futility.

Usually, I don't even read the stories anymore. I read the headline and think, "Oh, China is fucking some more shit up..."

What else do I need to know?

Mojo Nixon.

I don't know if they've done any studies on the effects of rock n' roll on infants, but I hope I'm not stunting her development.

In the evenings, we've found that one of Number One's favorite activities is Dance Party with Papa. She particularly likes the Ramones. She can go from fussy to passed out during I Wanna Be Sedated.

On the plus side, it's been a great chance for me to dig into my collection and find some old favorites.

Tonight she totally got into Mojo Nixon and the Toad Liquors.

Are you drinking with me, Jesus? Indeed.

Being a New Dad.

Being a New Dad is hard. And time consuming.

The good news is Number One likes the hammock almost as much as I do.

This week's news.

It seems like during the week I hardly have time to post anything, so here's the highlight reel...

Last night Number One was so tired she didn't want to go to sleep. She had been fuss-crying for about two hours, and by about 11 p.m., Mom and I were getting on to our rope's end. Finally, I got Number One to drift off to sleep - in her crib no less.

Then she slept until almost 6 a.m.

It. Was. Awesome.

Superwife decided I have the magic touch.

The other day I was holding Number One right after she had been fed, and she let loose what I can only describe as a Muppet Vomit.

Without warning, she opened her mouth, and half-digested milk shot out like, well, like if a Muppet projectile vomited. Seriously, there was no warning, no apparent strain on her part, and just like that, it was over - imagine if Kermit threw up and then acted like nothing happened.

Number One and I made our first solo trip out of the house this morning. A trip to Whole Foods for the weekly shopping. It was victoriously uneventful.

36 - 28.

Rock chalk, you lousy, overrated, chumps.

Firsts.

Number One took her first couple of bottles of pumped b-milk yesterday. No fuss, no problem. A relief for all involved - especially Mom.

Omi and Rick were in town this weekend to visit Number One, and I needed a hair cut, so the collective decision was made to make a family outing of it.

It was a day of firsts for Number One. She got to wear pants. Go somewhere that wasn't the grocery store (the first trip to the market was on Wednesday). And go to a restaurant.

The restaurant - a half-way upscale sushi spot - was the trickiest part, obviously. Would she cry? How would the waitstaff react? What would we do if she went full-on apoplectic? Would we be "those parents" who dared have a screaming baby in a grown-up eating establishment?

Aside from some initial awkwardness with the 17-year-old hostess ("Does your party of four include the baby?" "Um, no. There are clearly four adults here, and the baby will not need her own chair...") everything went perfectly. Number One slept the whole time, we had a nice lunch, and instead of being "those parents" we were the parents with Such a Good Baby.

Victories!

The Environment, Introduction.

Don't call me a Treehugger. Because I'm not. I'm a corporate attorney at a large law firm that defends industrial polluters against enforcement actions brought by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.

Don't call me an Eco-freak, or Enviro, or Stinkin' Hippie. Because I'm not. I negotiate slaps on the wrist, and influence regulatory agencies to write rules that are lax on industry.

But don't say "The Environment" like it's a smear like "liberal" or (god-forbid) "socialized medicine."

The environment is apolitical. Rivers don't catch on fire because of Democrats. And clouds of toxic pollutants don't just kill Republicans. We all breath the air, and drink the water, and want our kids to have the opportunity to see wildlife in its native habitat.

But the Politicians have made The Environment political. (The Environment is a political construct, the environment is where we all live.) They have convinced the 95 percent of Americans who know little or nothing about the environment that people are either liberal, treehugging, Environmentalists (the worst smear); or they are freedom-loving, god-fearing Americans. (Americans do not want The Government protecting the Spotted Owl at the expense of the corporate bottom line - I mean the jobs of hardworking loggers.)

And when I say 95 percent of Americans know nothing about the environment, I don't mean it as an insult - I understand, that most people have other things to worry about. All I mean is that most people don't actually know what is being emitted from factories or in what quantities (actually, quite a lot of bad stuff), and they don't know what is being done about it. Which is not to say that they should. Environmental professionals can spend their whole career working on just a piece of the Clean Air Act.

If I could do one thing to improve the environment, I would de-politicize it so that we can all figure out how to live in a cleaner, healthier place. Because if The Environment continues to be political tool wielded in the battle between Democrats and Republicans, "Liberals" and "Conservatives," Hippies and Corporate Fascists, the only thing that will suffer will be all of us.

New Clothes.

Pop and Grammy are coming today, so Number One gets to wear a skirt for the first time. Who knew a jean skirt from the Gap could look so Amish?

I told SuperWife that I'm thinking of converting to Amishism to set a good example for Number One (Part of my long-term strategy to keep her away from those damn teenage boys). She was skeptical.

Changing Expectations.

I somehow thought that when I became a parent I would start believing all sorts of parent-like things, like that Zero Tolerance is a good policy in schools or that we should have 1,000 junky plastic toys all over the house.

But it's not true. I'm still the same guy with the same crazy ideas - only now I have a kiddo.

Maybe its because the parents I most associate with parenthood are those that I saw growing up in the suburbs, and they all seemed to think the same. But maybe that's just how I remember things.

Maybe it's like quitting smoking. Some (most) people after they quit act like they're repulsed by the very idea of smoking and go on a campaign to convert all of their smoking (former) friends. Me, I still think smoking's cool and sometimes wish I could still do it. In fact, I encourage smokers to keep it up.

Which brings me to a sort of related topic. I was talking to a client yesterday, and we were going through the whole New Baby spiel. I said what SuperWife oftens says, "People always tell you that your life will be totally different, but you don't really understand until they're born."

And the client (a man) said: "And they almost always say it as a negative. They never talk about all the wonderful ways it will change."

Most of the men in my office say things like: "To be honest, after two weeks at home with a screaming baby, you'll be glad to come back to work."

Let's be honest. That's a fucking lie.

Smile.

I came home from work for lunch today, and Number One was ready for a nappy change right on schedule. So to the changing table we went, and she, of course, does her best fountain impression.

So two diapers later, she's changed and re-dressed.

Then she looks up at me, appears for the first time to have real recognition, and smiles the biggest grin you've ever seen.

It was maybe the coolest thing that's happened to me ever.

Milk money.

Papa: Good morning, Number One. I hope you enjoy being two weeks old, because, next week you're going to have to start learning the difference between the Cubists and the Dadaists.

Number One: Why?

Papa: Because if you don't start learning art movements, common literary themes and quantum physics, now, you'll get behind. Then you'll never get into a good pre-school; you'll never get into Harvard; and you'll never be an investment banker.

Number One: The only thing I want is milk. Why do I need to be an investment banker?

Papa: Because you need to buy designer milk in fancy packaging.

Number One: ???

Aqua Beads.

Aqua Beads are super mega awesome!*

So are the eight other toys recalled today. It was a bad day for Schylling (you can't make these names up), which had five toys recalled, including this robot from the future:

And even I might have bought this rad toy funny car (the irony keeps coming). Naw. I'm not a Mopar guy...

* Caution: Aqua Beads are a product of the Children Loving Repbulic of China (motto: We don't kill our baby girls, and we won't kill yours!) and may contain GHB, a.k.a. The Date Rape Drug. Any claims of super mega awesomeness reflect only the views of China where "super mega awesome" means "will cause child to go into a non-responsive coma." Aqua Beads should only be used When She Is Asking For It.

Back to Work.

I'm back at the real job, now, working for The Man. I would much rather be at home changing nappies.

Anyway, Number One had her two-week appointment today. I scored an exact hit with my prediction that she would be up to 8 pounds. Mom was skeptical at my guess, but was happy that the little one is now well above her birth weight.

This means that now Mom doesn't have to set the alarm every three hours for feedings during the night. We can just let Number One sleep until she wakes up howling for the bosom. I'm not sure if it will be an improvement overall, but maybe we'll get lucky... No... I'm not even going to say it... Knock on wood for even thinking it...

Diaper quest.

First, I'm peeved again at the Baby Industrial Complex. Then a discussion of nappies.*

All through the pregnancy, there is the litany of magazines and the gift registering and the Babies R Us telling you all about all of things you "need" to have before the baby arrives. It's nonsense.

It's like how they tell you that you need this or that for the perfect wedding, but when it comes down to it, the only thing you really need is someone else who will say "I do."

With Number One, here's what we've "needed" so far:

1. Car seat. (Actually, I'm glad I spent a fair amount of time researching this, but the information at car-safety.org was much more helpful than anything I found in any magazine's buyer's guide. Them folks in the Forums are obsessed with car seats.)

2. Our Bugaboo Frog (Admittedly, probably not something that we need, but we use it all the time. Number One sleeps in it in bassinet mode day and night, and it's super convenient to put her in while we cook and eat dinner, etc. I can honestly say that it's been one of the most useful things we have.)

3. Some clothes that fit and aren't totally off the Cute Scale. My current favorite is this kimono-style bodysuit. It opens up, so it's easy to get her into it without pulling it over her head.

4. And finally, nappies and wipes. As chief nappy changer, this is the one area in which I'm becoming competent and moderately knowledgeable.

In the hospital, we had the standard-issue Pampers, which were fine, but to me, smell much too strongly of deodorant and whatever other chemicals they put in them to make them impervious to moisture. Not to mention the Elmos and the whatnot all over them. The quest begins.

The first option was cotton. Before Number One arrived, I enrolled us with a diaper service for cloth diapers. I find them to be only marginally more trouble than disposables, but I haven't got total buy-in from Mom yet. They're a little bulky, but Number One seems to be slightly happier when I first put them on. The dry, breathable cotton on a freshly-wiped bum seems much nicer than the air-tight disposables.

The only drawback is they don't wick away the moisture like the disposables, so you have to be right on top of things with your changes. Unfortunately, Number One doesn't always let us know right away when there's an issue, so it's hard to know sometimes if we're changing her fast enough.

The National Association of Diaper Services has a ton of information on using cloth on their site. I'm still positive on the cloth, but it looks like it might ultimately depend on Mom after I go back to work.

I've also been using the Seventh Generation, chlorine-free variety. These fit well, don't smell like a chemical factory, and seem to be a good compromise between cloth and disposables. Obviously, they're not totally "green" (whatever that means), but I like supporting a corporation that at least purports to care about the environment. Also, they seem to be far less toxic overall than the Pampers-Huggies varieties. I won't reinvent the wheel here, because MamaStories has already posted a ton of research on this topic.

As for wipes, we've also been using the Seventh Generation, but she goes through so many that I want to make sure I'm using the gentlest ones we can find. It's astounding at how many times in a row she can go...and spaced just awkwardly enough...just when you think it's safe to put on the clean nappy...

More on this later.

Things we have yet to need: pack and play; play mat or anything else with sounds or bells and whistles; a swing; pretty much everything else they're selling.

* Really, this post was intended to deal only with diapers, but then I started thinking about how nappies are the one thing that occupy most of my time with Number One and how everything else has mattered very little. Needless to say the post morphed into how they sell, sell, sell you crap you don't need while neglecting the things that you really do.

Exciting Halloween.

Congratulations to Brother- and Sister-in-Law on the birth of their new daughter. A real beautiful baby girl.

Number One now has cousins 12 days older and 8 days younger than her. It's an October Miracle!

So cool.

She's even more punk than me even.

A couple of photos.

We thought we were through with the phototherapy, but Dr. said to do a couple more hours after her bili test came back a tad higher than on Saturday. Here's she is as Baby One from Outer Space. It looks like it's uncomfortable, but she slept through it like there was nothing going on.

Papa says black is the new pink.

3 a.m.

It's my shift. I usually get the time after the 1 a.m. feeding, when for some reason, she refuses to go back to sleep. After the next feeding, she'll probably sleep the rest of the morning. Unfortunately, that's about the time Mom and I wake up.

It's been a fairly eventful day. She's past her jaundice, so no more light therapy - I know, you didn't even know she had light therapy, but it's gone now.

She had her first bath, which was fairly uneventful, shockingly.

And then at the last changing, she officially made the switch from brown to green. V. exciting. I'm hoping it will mean a change in habits, too, because for the last half-day she has decided it was fun to make 4 dirty nappies in a row with a little in each rather than save it up.

Fine by me, except a) she hates having her nappy changed, and b) it uses up a lot of nappies.

I've tried a couple of times to use cloth nappies, and she's wearing one right now. She doesn't seem phased by it.

Right now, they're definitely more bulky than the Pampers, but I'm pretty sure that bothers me more than it does her.

Why cloth, you may ask? Well, I'm trying to be more environmentally friendly, which hopefully will be a part this blog. What can I do to use more products made in the United States in a more environmentally responsible way - that kind of thing.

She's back to sleep now, so I'm hoping to take advantage.

New job.

I started my new job this week.

Number One was born on Tuesday, October 23, 2007, at 4:48 p.m. Mom and baby did awesome. She's a beautiful little girl, which is obvious from the pic.

Mom's water broke at about 3 a.m., but she wasn't quite ready to commit so we went back to sleep for a couple of hours. When things had not gone back to normal by the time we woke up again at 7 a.m., she called the doctor who told us to head to the hospital. We arrived at about 9 a.m., and because the doctor didn't want labor to last too long with Mom's water broke, Mom was started on pitocin.

Our nurse was Iranian, and joked that she was giving Mom the "Persian Pitocin," which apparently is particularly potent.

Then Labor really started. If you haven't seen it before, it's painful to watch. Luckily, Mom was already 5 cm dilated, so she didn't have far to go.

Number One was born a few hours later.

Another day at the office. Right.

Since then, I've been promoted to chief nappy changer. It was decided Mom giveth; Baby maketh, and Papa taketh away.

Thus far, I haven't gained any particularly worldly or witty wisdom, but I'll keep you posted.

Final Countdown.

Until last Monday, we were perfectly content to bide our time and wait for Number One to arrive as a Scorpio. Sure, we hoped she might come a few days early and be born on Halloween, but we (well, at least I) weren't expecting her to arrive in Week 37 (or 38 - is the due date the last day or first day of Week 40?).

Anyway, since Dr. told us she could come literally at any moment, the pressure's been on. Every time the phone rings, I expect it to be SuperWife calling for her ride to the hospital. So far, though, no dice.

Maybe a haiku will help:

Come out Number One
Everyone wants to meet you
And womb rent is due

By the Numbers.

For those of you interested in stats. At the last Dr. appointment 2 weeks ago, SuperWife was at 1 cm and 50% effaced.

On Monday this week, she was at 3 cm and 80% effaced. Dr. said Number One could come at anytime, and she might see us at the hospital before the next appointment.

Here it is 5 days later and no baby.

Any bets on the over/under?

New Baby!

Congratulations to Sister and her husband who had a bouncing baby boy yesterday. By all accounts everyone is doing great. Now I'm an Uncle!

With Number One on the way, and the In-Laws expecting at the same time, it's going to be a birth-filled few weeks.

Baby Einstein follow-up.

I've got to do better about watching less of the Idiot Box, myself, because when Number One arrives, off it goes. Here's a story this week from the Washington Post apropo of last week's post, To wit:

"Some child development experts say it is highly unlikely babies know what to make of commercial baby videos, which they describe as a noisy, rapid-fire melange of images, sounds and words in multiple languages that seem to have little connection to one another but may be attention-grabbing.

"Babies can barely recognize objects at all," Zimmerman said. A picture of a horse and a bouncing cow to illustrate the concept "farm" -- along with the word "farm," which they cannot read, is likely to be baffling, he said.

"A 1-year-old is not going to learn to read: They don't have the cognitive architecture."

Lifetime Ban.

In light of the recent recall of Baby Einstein blocks, I'm instituting a lifetime ban on all Baby Einstein products for Number One.

You may question whether such a ban is necessary. I offer the following:

1. The recall.

2. Kids who watch Baby Einstein videos are dumber than those who do not. And in response, the Disney company attacks American Idol.

3. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that kids watch zero hours of t.v. before age two - which probably makes it hard to sell DVDs to kids who shouldn't be watching them.

4. Disney is Satan. After all, God hasn't lifted his ban of Disney, why should I?

Breastfeeding.

Heretofore, my breastfeeding reading has been limited to articles about how it's the best thing in the world - smarter kid, helps Mom recover from birth, increases immunity, can help the Texans win games - but I haven't spent much time learning about the actual mechanics of the thing. I figured I wouldn't be doing it, so what good is it going to be if I know all about it?

Well, I just spent about 10 minutes reading the Basics of Breastfeeding, and I'm reminded yet again, of how men are the weaker sex. Do you know any man who could nurse? 10 times a day? 15 minutes on each breast? After giving birth?

There would have to be football on t.v. 24 hours a day; no man would ever go back to work after just six weeks, and they'd demand to be paid their full salary for at least six months.

For the Haters.

It seems that some readers are concerned that I have anger issues, and you say you want me to write about happy things. So in a post of shameless pandering, here are some things, in no particular order, I like about being a dad-to-be:

1. The look of equal parts pity and envy you get from Older Dads whose daughters are mostly grown.

2. Thinking about lazy Sundays working on the hot rod or just laying in the hammock with Number One.

3. Feeling Number One squirm as she tries to find a way out of The Womb.

4. Our Bugaboo Frog.

5. The generally useful and almost always genuine advice you get from other New Parents.

6. Trying to figure out her name.

7. Going through it all with SuperWife - who knows.

8. How if you play with a kid in the neighborhood, everybody says, "Oh, he's going to be such a great dad."

9. Continuing my pre-fatherhood hobby of complaining about miserable junk like Parenting Magazine and "The Expectant Father." What a piece of crap that book is...

Parenting. The Magazine.

Where to start with the free copy we received in the mail. How about with the top of the front cover - "What matters to moms."

Last time I checked, "parenting" includes fathers. And, despite the best efforts of certain men to the contrary, "parenting" matters to dads, too.

Let's be honest, Parenting Magazine, you're just a shill for Disney, Pampers and Pantene. Half the articles are about "your beauty update," which I'm pretty sure does not apply to me, and the other half are condescending and degrading to women even as they attempt to pander to them.

SuperWife looks just as beautiful now in her eighth month of pregnancy as she ever has, and you're pushing beauty products on her? No wonder women in this country have body-image issues. Shut up and leave my wife and daughter alone.

And apparently, the new girls' night out includes "knitting" and "cooking" (emphasis in original). Are you fucking kidding me? Knitting and cooking? Did it somehow become 1950 while I wasn't looking?

Not to mention that every time I look at the rag, all I can think about are all the poor kids whose stage moms and dads have decided they want to cash in on their kids semi-cute looks before they get ugly and resentful.

(Given that this is my first rant against the Baby Industrial Complex's anti-dad bias, I think I've now officially joined the ranks of the angry dad bloggers.)

No class.

We went to our basic infant care class yesterday. First of all, I was the only guy there wearing actual shoes. Every other guy there was wearing some sort of sandal. And they didn't all look like hippies. One was even an Aggie that made his wife leave early so they wouldn't miss too much of the game. So close, Fresno State.

Second of all, we suck at swaddling. SuperWife blamed it on the blanket - too big, she said. But I'm pretty sure that we could have had a blanket custom fitted to our little fake baby, and we still wouldn't have got it. We definitely need some swaddling practice before Number One arrives.

And then of course, there was Macho Dad two tables over whose swaddle was so tight you could've bounced a quarter off it. You could tell he took every such challenge as a threat to his masculinity. Congratulations, champ, your swaddles would pass Marine Corps inspection. Now put on some regular shoes.

Other than that class was great. We sat in the back, laughed at the cross-eyed babies in the video and generally acted like delinquents. We're going to be awesome parents.

Cuteness, clarified.

It has come to my attention that there is some confusion regarding the Cute threshhold. I'll clarify.

The maximum Cute that will be accepted is four points. (Upon reconsideration, I raised it one point.)

I stand by the statement, though, that outfits should be limited to two Cutes. A romper like this in a primary color comes in at a perfectly respectable one point. And, this one comes in at negative 1.

Yes, points can be deducted for anti-Cute.

It's like golf. The lower the score the better.

The grandma-20-point-comment was simply hyperbole.

Cuteness.

Ostensibly, this will be yet another lame daddy blog, but since Number One isn't going to be born for a couple of more months, I've got to post about something. So here you go.

Actually, this is important, so pay attention.

I'm instituting a point system for all baby clothes - and girl clothes especially (because we're having a girl, duh). From now on, each piece of baby clothing will be scored by Cute points. Under this new system, each unit of Cute is worth one point, and only clothes with three or fewer Cute points will be accepted.

I don't care if you are my Grandmother, if you give me one more thing with 20 Cute points, I'll throw it right back in your face. I mean it.

First, given that baby clothes are made, in point of fact, for babies, which are inherently cute, each article of clothing starts out with one point. A point is also automatically awarded for any piece of clothing that is primarily pastel. So, right off the bat, almost every stitch of baby clothing gets two points.

Then for each bunny, chick, butterfly, heart, flower, you get the point, another point is awarded. If it's a flower or butterfly pattern, that's probably just one point per pattern, but additional points may be awarded depending on the Cute in question. A point will also be awarded for each superfluous fashion feature, such as a ruffles or lace on the collar or sleeve.

Take this for example. It gets one point for being baby Cute, and another for being pink. There's two more for the bear and the bunny, and two more for the chicks. One for the random collar, and another for being half-pink, half-white (a judgment call, I'll admit, but I'm going with it). That's eight Cute points for just one outfit.

For the love of god, people, no outfit should have more than two.

Stop the ultra-Cute.

Think about it.

I'll get back to you.

Here goes nothing.

Well, here it is. Post numero uno. Not that exciting really, now that its out there. Just another blog in an Internet full of blogs. Do you think 1,000 monkeys could have come up with this? Maybe I am 1,000 monkeys. Or is it more than that? Monkeys, I mean.

Anyway, I guess I'll at least add a link to something fun. It's about Jimmy Carter and a rabbit. How could that not be fun?