After much thought and careful deliberation, little Nathan/Reese’s “coming home” outfit has been selected.
Why the monkey theme? Because for some reason you can’t find onesies with dolphins. And because I love monkeys. Probably more than I love human beings. Put it this way, if I were to get trapped in an elevator for three hours and had the choice of being trapped with human beings or chimpanzees, I would absolutely choose the chimpanzees — despite the threat of being pelted with feces and having my face ripped off.
Monkeys are too fascinating to me. They’re our spiritual mirrors. They’re smart, they’re stupid. They’re playful, they’re shy. They’re cute, they’re ugly. They’re calm, they’re angry. They’re giving, they’re selfish. They’re kind, they’re mean. They’re good, they’re evil.
Only it seems a lot easy to forgive the latter half of those pairs when it ain’t in a human being.
Funny how that works.
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It occurs to me that I have been hogging the spotlight.
Daddy’s My Mommy is a catchy title. It’s everything you need to know in one line. What’s this site about? It’s about a Daddy being a Mommy in the same way that Snakes on a Plane is about monkey-fighting snakes on a Monday-to-Friday plane.
But the truth is that I will not be Nathan or Reese’s Mommy. They have one of those already — their actual Mommy. And, unlike me, their actual Mommy has long pretty hair, a beautiful face, and two giant milk factories attached to her chest. More to the point, they’re living inside their Mommy’s body. When they start doing karate chops in the middle of the night, it’s their Mommy who feels them. And when they shove their way out into the world, it’s their Mommy’s va-jay-jay from which they’ll emerge.
I know, it’s
1960 1970 1980 1990 2000 2010 and gender roles are in flux. Dads are taking on more responsibility at home. Changing diapers. Doing dishes. Trying on their wife’s underwear when she’s not home. But the truth is that a Daddy in black lace panties is still a Daddy.
And a Mommy with a paycheck?
Still a Mommy.
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Posted in Names, Sex of the Baby, Uncategorized, tagged Alabama, baby, baby names, candy, doric columns, names, Reese, Reese Phifer Hall, Reese Witherspoon, Reese's Pieces, University of Alabama on August 24, 2010 |
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It has nothing to do with this gal . . .
. . . although let’s pause for a second to welcome the 16-year-old boys who just found this blog by mistake. What’s up, dudes?
No, my wife and I chose “Reese” for two reasons.
One, that’s the name of the building where we first met — Reese Phifer Hall at the University of Alabama. Check it out:
If I had any sense of staging, I would have asked her out on the front steps between those Doric columns. But, alas, I did not have any sense. So I choose a dim-lit fire exit around the side.
The second reason we selected “Reese” is because of these:
In college, my wife had a jar of these in her kitchen. I believe they were there for decoration. But little did she know she was dating THE WORLD’S BIGGEST FAN OF CHOCOLATE PEANUT BUTTER CANDIES. And so I ate them. All of them. And every time I came back over, I found the jar had been magically refilled, as if replenished by some other-worldly life force.
Also, this is how I got fat.
TOMORROW: The name we chose for a boy.
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