I caught sight of myself in a mirror the other day and it struck me how stylish I looked. I was well dressed in a lovely babygro and my hair wasn’t sticking up in peaks like it normally does (I spend a vast amount of time looking like I’ve received an electric shock). Plus, my usual angry expression had been replaced by an almost smile and I realised: I was looking good.
So then the idea came to me – I should write a style guide for my fellow babies, with all my fashion dos and don’ts….
This is the kind of outfit Mother loves me to wear, particularly when we have company and I am required to be passed around like pass the parcel. ‘Oooh, isn’t she pretty,’ is the sort of comment which is bandied around, a comment which causes Mother to break into a smug smile. However, behind that smile is stress and worry. Because every time I wear a delicate frock such as this, Mother is constantly worried about it being spoiled by nappy explosions or projectile vomiting or milk spillages. She watches me like a hawk, terrified that some excretion is going to tarnish the façade of perfection (she still hasn’t quite gotten over the very unfortunate tummy upset I had in the dainty little dress I was dressed in for her cousin’s wedding. I suspect the lady seated next to me hasn’t recovered either. I don’t think Father helped with his enthusiastic urging that ‘it’ll come out with a bit of soap and water.’ I believe the lady’s dress was silk.)
Let’s get one thing clear: it is not my fault that I need a bib. It is Mother and Father’s cack-handedness with a bottle that allows drips and spills to happen – I don’t let a drop of milk fall out of my mouth. We get through about five bibs a day most days. Mother used to use pretty, flowery bibs but now she grabs whatever’s in the drawer; on more than one occasion this has been a tea towel. This is my favourite bib though as it always makes Mother smile. Father, meanwhile, has been known to raise his eyebrows and mutter ‘lucky?’
Thanks to my teddy bear and good friend RoRo for modelling my hat.
Mother and Father are obsessed with the temperature and keeping me warm on cold days and cool on sunny days. This necessitates a hat, either for keeping my little bonce warm or keeping the rays off my head. A worthy intention, but they have yet to find a hat that fits me, and one which doesn’t keep falling down over my face. There was one time when Mother was so busy gossiping to her friend that she didn’t notice that my hat had fallen down for a good fifteen minutes, during which time I was convinced I was experiencing a total eclipse of the sun.
These shoes are fabulous. But a bit like my hat, they are far too big for me. And that’s the problem with all of my shoes. Once Mother gets over the excitement of seeing my feet encased in a cute pair of shoes, she gets increasingly frustrated with having to pick them up off the floor after they fall off approximately every five seconds. On one occasion, a dog got hold of one of my shoes after it had fallen off and Father nearly broke his ankle chasing after it. ‘But they’re too big for her anyway,’ he’d panted, bemused. ‘We might as well let him have it.’ ‘But they’re so pretty,’ protested Mother. ‘Quick, he’s going in the river with it!’ After a heroic dash through field and water, Father managed to successfully retrieve my shoe – but Mother threw it away anyway: ‘It’s all germ-filled now.’
Scratch mitts are the biggest ‘fashion don’t’ ever. They are my enemy, with their spiteful, restricting ways. If I ever get into a position of power, I am going to ban scratch mitts – and let all babies itch away happily.
Babygros are the best item of clothing ever made. Comfortable, fashionable, a baby cannot fail to look stylish in an all-in-one. I am just surprised that adults don’t wear this style of garment more. Perfect for any occasion: a must-have.
Love, Baby Anon x