Can’t talk, drowning in pink death.
Baby girl stuff… frightening. Little dresses, cuteness overload. Tiny hats, itty-bitty socks, smaller-than-small shoes… So. Damn. Cute. I will melt. I’m going to be like putty, like jello, in her hands. She will “pwn” me and I will be her willing slave. “Daddy, buy me a pony!” “Anything you want, princess.” No! No! I must resist the adorabulessness of the Mighty Baby. I must be stern. Strong. Unbending. And the first thing I must do is play Halo to regain my manliness.
The second thing is I need to do is stop crying when folding little, pink shirts.
It’s even worse when you pick up one of those little pink shirts that she no longer fits into. *sniffle*
Wah, no shotgun-toting teddy bear? No pink controller for the 360? What a rip……..
You’re doomed.