Just a Piece of Blue Cotton

Everyone knows that girl clothes are more fun than boy clothes.

As I walk through my local Walmart, on my way from the Wheat Thins to the laundry detergent, I glance over to the baby girls' section; and I agree. Myriad shades of pink--purple, light and dark--fresh apple green--cheery red--ruffles--lace--Easter dresses...need I say more?

But when I'm at home, working on the sentimental project of putting away the clothes Shav has outgrown and getting out the next bigger size for him to grow into, I think to myself that boy clothes--my boys' clothes--are better than pink ruffles any day. When I see the sleepers and onesies and jeans and outfits that they have worn, I realize that they're not just pieces of cloth anymore. No matter how cute a particular fabric or style might be, nothing competes with the draw that memories have.

Take this blue sleeper, for example, that Shav was wearing today:

Every time I see it, I think about the fact that my brother David and his wife gave it to us when our David was a baby. That's special, but there's something even more significant about this particular garment.
When David and Lori decided to adopt, their original intention was to first get a newborn (or as close to it as they could get) son, and then adopt again a few years later. They knew that the boy would be at least a few months old by the time all the paperwork and regulations were dealt with, so they selected a size according to their best estimate and chose this sleeper that has pictures of houses and airplanes and dogs and so forth and says things like, "We're There!" and "Adventure Trip" and "Going Home."
Then, when their plans were changed by their decision to adopt an older sibling group, they no longer had a need for such a small sleeper so they passed it along to us. Now when I see it, I think about them and the children they adopted...I think about David and Tobin wearing it when they were babies...and here Shav is, once again utilizing what is really just a piece of blue cotton, but which to me, is so much more.
It's love, plain and simple, framed by the sweetness of memories.
I suppose it's no wonder that as I look through our boxes of beloved baby boy clothes, I tell Jeff a little hesitantly, "I kind of hope I get to use these again someday."

It's also not surprising that, though I sometimes glance wistfully at matching mother/daughter outfits, I'd rather have my baby boy clothes than all the pink dresses in the world!