So, as a first-time Dad, I’ll admit, there were times early on when I thought I had it all figured out. You know, I had survived pregnancy, childbirth (not to say that I did most of the work–I’m not, I’m just saying I got over the wow, I’m a Dad and I am responsible for this person phase) and the first few months of diapers and sleeplessness and so on. And so, I may have started to get a little full of myself.
And here’s one of the big ones: I had no idea why people kept giving us bibs. Gift after gift and all these bibs. And I’m thinking–in those early months, mind you–what’s the deal with bibs, anyway? I’ve got my trusty burp cloths and I have gotten used to spitup and drool and you know what? My kid just has no need for those awkward-looking bibs!
And then we got to solid food.
Oh, my God. I mean, sure, I knew intellectually that a baby eating solid food for the first time would be a messy affair. I just, sorta, well, didn’t realize it would ever happen to me. Now that we’ve got a high chair (a Stokke–they rock) and some heat-warning spoons and BPA-free bowls, well, I’m burning through bibs like they’re going out of style. I can’t get enough bibs. They spent the first six months of my daughter’s life sitting in the top drawer of the changing table (all “I Love Hugs” and “Daddy’s Girl” and “Going To Grandma’s”) and I now fully regret my dissing of the bib.
There’s nothing on Earth that can keep food out of my daughter’s hair and all over the high chair and up her arms and all over her clothes, but bibs suddenly serve a very critical role in my life. And I want to make it clear: I’m sorry I ever doubted you. Thank you for the bibs. Please send more. Right away. Plastic bibs, fuzzy cotton bibs, whatever you’ve got, send ’em my way. The girl loves her food and lately, she has to hold the spoon herself, which is as messy as it sounds.
New to parenthood? Hold onto those bibs folks give you. They don’t make sense for months. But when it happens, you’ll need to know where they are. And you’ll need a lot of them.