I'm not afraid to admit that these days you'll find me wearing the same oversized cozy sweater day in and day out, with spit-up in my hair because I forget to tie it back, and rotating between three pairs of sweatpants. I now understand the women who get dolled up to go to Target* because I believe I am turning into one of them. Any chance I get to get out of my sweatpants and go out in public and I want to throw on some make-up and put on my Sunday best! So being holed up at home in the middle of winter with my own little "doll" to dress up in whatever I want, only encourages this pent up fashionista in me.
So the other day, I couldn't help getting my baby clad for work out in the vineyard, albeit a ways off.
I mean, honestly, is it even realistic to think that he will be walking when he fits into these boots?
No. But how can I resist a pair or work boots this size that are just like his daddy's?
He just has to break them in a bit. And we all know the second he can walk, we'll have him out picking grapes, so I am just getting prepared.
And what's a farm kid without cowboy boots?
Nevermind that we are raising grapes here, not horses.
And flannel?
Oh, and overalls! Can't forget the overalls!
Wardrobe change.
Oh, dear.
Someone help me...
I am going to dress him in overalls until he's 18.
And lederhosen.
Overalls and lederhosen.
He's going to hate me.
*Please note these pictures of me were taken before aforementioned "Target run."
Or a farmer...
Or grapepicker...
Look at that face. He has no idea the life we have in store for him.
I swear I have never even met the mailman.
If all other features weren't pointing towards Aaron, I might be in trouble. I mean I know they are still changing color and all and there is that whole recessive gene thing...but still.
