The Suit

Last night we tried the suit on Peepers...you know...just to make sure it would fit and all.
OKAYOKAYOKAY! We wanted a good laugh! There! I said it! No, really, we were dying to see how he would look in it and my aunt was dying to know if it fit. We laid Peepers out and stripped off his little tee shirt and began assembling what we will henceforth refer to as, The Suit.
First we crammed plump, sausage legs into the little white pants. He was cool with that. He looked like a shirtless, karate kid. A fat one. Next we jammed plump, sausage arms into the shirt which OF ALL THINGS, buttoned in the BACK. Then we slid the little embroidered vest over the whole thing, straightened the little bow tie, placed the little bonnet on Peepers head and LAUGHED OUR BUTTS OFF!
Meanwhile, through the entire process, Peepers was grabbing bits of silky white material and trying ravenously to stuff them into his drooling mouth. Now if you recall, Peepers is a "spitter-upper" and in between cackling at my child and trying to contort his body into a fancy suit, I was also having an anxiety attack that he would spit out an entire 6 ounces of Similac Lactose Free onto his ONE OF A KIND, ONCE IN A LIFETIME BAPTISMAL SUIT. And to quell my fears, Roy lifts the child from under his arms, props him in a "standing" position and starts singing Saturday Night Fever while manipulating him, not unlike a puppet, to look as though he is strutting to the music. Grace, you TOTALLY don't need to worry about having children for your own personal amusement. I am living proof that it doesn't PERMANENTLY damage them. However, I have no scientific data on the temporary effects, thus far.