When I first went back to work, I got a call from Hottie. “Hey, you didn’t leave his clothes out for the day. What did you want him to wear to go to Ms. Jennifer’s?”

“You’re a big boy, babe. I thought you could pick out his clothes. If you want, though, I ca…”

“No, I can do it.”

Ever since then, I get phone calls that are more like this.

“He looks so cute! Wait until you pick him up. Look at the little jacket he’s wearing!” Daddy takes a lot of pride in the fact that Little Man looks good.

I don’t have the heart to tell him that usually when I go and pick up Little Man he’s wearing completely different clothes because he either exploded out of his britches or spit up all over them.