Week Six: My Son, the Baby Pimp

I know it's rude to ridicule gifts people buy for your children. There's even a cliche, involving gift horses, that never fails to confuse me. So I will restrain myself from asking all kinds of rhetorical questions about where Buyer of said gift (see photos) thought cass might wear this Anne Geddes-inspired getup. But I could not resist sharing the results of a recent photo shoot from an otherwise uneventful Monday morning. Initially, I thought it was a bear jacket, but upon further inspection of the storybook tag, I've realized it's actually dog jacket. None of this changes the fact that it makes him look most like a little pimp in a fuax fur playa's jacket.













Throwing out a high five, yo, this is how I roll.




















I said Cut! Will someone straighten me back up?














Grrrrr...They don't call me The Bear (or is it The Dog?) for nuthin'. This mini mack daddy isn't afraid to bite.

















Just as soon as I get my first tooth, I'm getting a gold cap. Bling!










Pimps Up, Ho's Down. Except for me. This pimp is down...for a nap.