Monday, March 21, 2011

My Baby Is Not Cold, Thank You For SHUT THE HELL UP!

I don't know what it is about people (well, not so much people as women), but there appears to be a pathological concern about a baby's being too cold that teeters somewhere between overbearing concern and psychotic break. If it's not 120 degrees outside, some people will just assume that your child is cold, and despite knowing absolutely nothing about the veracity of the belief, will feel compelled to comment on it. "Why is he in short sleeves?" "He's got to be freezing!" "He needs a coat!"

To all of you: shut your damn mouths. No, really. It's really not that cold out. Further, the boy is like his daddy in that any temperature above 45 degrees will reduce him to a wilting, sweaty mess of pasty white sadness. And me, the guy who has to deal with that mess, call me crazy, but I'd prefer that he not have 230 layers of dense grandma-knit fabric trapping body-heat to him so that he slow cooks like a deep fried turkey in a redneck's garage (PASS THE SKOAL!). That doesn't make me negligent. It makes me a parent who knows my child pretty well. Much better than, say, some passing bilious fartsteak armed only with some antiquated notion of babies as delicate Yankee Candles, needing warmth that their gingersnap cookie light may shine, shine, SHINE!

That is all.


  1. The bilious farststeak that told me Isaac was cold one day was actually a man, thank you very much. In reality he was grumpin' because he was grumpin'.

  2. Why did you hate on Grandma knit fabric? See If he ever gets another hat or mittens from me.

  3. I know. What a jerk. You can count on me to dress him in them!

  4. I mostly like the phrase pasty white sadness... cracks me up.