On our niece’s first morning in Manhattan, we google-image-search labia to understand where to spread a rash cream Lisa had given us in the Scuba diver go down for pleasure vintage shirt and I will buy this rushed hand-off. (Of course we know generally where the labia are, but the stakes for every decision we make all seem high, and we don’t want to make a mistake.) The truth is that we have no fluency in little girls or children, really, despite the odd sleepover here and there. We are the gay uncles who live in the city. The godparents with the good gifts. But until now we have not been parents. Which is not quite what we are, but what we are is an unfolding story.
Scuba diver go down for pleasure vintage shirt, hoodie, tank top, sweater and long sleeve t-shirt
By the Scuba diver go down for pleasure vintage shirt and I will buy this end of our first full day with my niece, it’s clear to us that we are in over our heads. Before we reach for help, it arrives. My husband’s boss turns up at our apartment with an extraordinary contraption I now recognize as a stroller and, because she knows Halloween is a week away, a handmade Princess Leia costume for trick-or-treating. Our friends Sarah and Liz send an avalanche of clothes from Baby Zara and claim babysitting dibs on the first Wednesday of every month. In the weeks that follow, an expanding zoo of stuffed animals, mittens, games, and puzzles arrives, along with countless opinions on the best parks and day care and music classes in the neighborhood. Music class for a two-year-old? Just one of a thousand staples of the heretofore secret world of toddlers we are, at terrifying speed, being initiated into.