(Yes. I just called my unborn child "Thor". It will NOT stick. Promise.)
Thanks to the 30% off discount of the entire outlet store, Thor now has multiple outfits (ranging from three to eighteen months) from Polo Ralph Lauren. This includes my baby's first hoodie sweatshirt for next winter (a wardrobe staple according to mama), a pair of khaki shorts and football related graphic tees (compliments of Trevor) for next fall.
Yep. That's right. My kiddo will be rocking' the pony until he is a toddler (at least).
In other news, Thor is also the new owner of two or three t-shirts for next summer from Durango and Silverton. Trevor also bought him a moose stuffed animal for his (apparently) soon to be animal themed nursery.
I'd be lying if I said buying tiny little onsies, outfits and toys isn't kind of fun. And Trevor is just over the moon. We haven't gone in to a store lately where we didn't make an immediate beeline to the kid section.
Now, if I could only start looking pregnant instead of just fat, maybe this whole thing would start to feel more real. Because as much fun as rocking the baby beer gut is, it is starting to get old to have the cashier ask if we are buying baby things for a friend:
Me: "We are actually buying for ourselves."
Cashier: "Oh! Did you just find out you are expecting?"
Me: "No, I am actually 20+ weeks and due in December."
Cashier: "Seriously?"
Me: "Yep."
Cashier: "Aren't you supposed to be…I dunno…showing by now or something? Because you totally can't tell. I never would have guessed you are pregnant at all."
Granted, it is nice that I'm not really showing, because I know I will be adequately large soon enough. But right now all I have are newly formed love handles, jeans that give me a muffin top on the right side (seriously…just the right side) and boobs that make my shirts fit all funny.
But, at least, Thor won't be running around naked come January. Because I was starting to worry about that.
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