A big thing at wedding and baby showers these days is to pass around a book for everyone to sign, and to add a little nugget of advice for the bride/mom-to-be. I always like to write something that I personally think is really useful information, but others might not have thought of. I remember when my friend got married, other people gave her boring advice like, “Don’t go to bed angry,” and “Remember to respect each other,” and blah blah whatever. I wrote, “Always bring home gingerale when your husband is sick,” advice I totally stand behind, because it was my delivery of gingerale to a sick Sir Monkeypants one time when he was sick in university that explains why we are married today.

Lately it’s been more baby showers than wedding showers. I like to write, “If it’s a girl, don’t wash the pale pink stuff with the dark load, or it will pick up an ugly blue tone that does not work with the rest of the baby girl wardrobe.” I learned this fact the hard way, and I can already hear 15-year-old Gal Smiley, looking at baby pictures of herself, saying, “What the hell is up with these pants with the blue splotches on them?” and me saying, “Don’t swear, little lady.” If it’s a boy, my advice is to be sure to buy him a Buzz Lightyear action figure for his fourth birthday.

When I was pregnant with Captain Jelly Belly, I had a shower and we did the advice thing. MyFriendJen, who has a daughter a few years older than the Captain, gave me the following good advice, “Pick your battles — if she wants to wear a pink skirt with orange tights and a green shirt, let it go.” I laughed at the time. And actually, since then, the clothing thing hasn’t really been an issue, because the Captain is very pliable, and he’ll wear anything we tell him to wear as long as a) we do all the work of actually getting it on his body, and b) he is allowed to watch Monster Trucks during the dressing process.

But lately, Gal Smiley has let it be known that she is a bit of a fashionista, and she finds our taste wanting. She’d rather pick out her own outfits, thank you very much, than be seen in that hideous pair of pink stretch pants one more time. This morning, although she consented to wear the jeans and pretty flowered top that I picked out for her, she insisted on getting her own socks — yellow with red toes and heels, and a picture of a dump truck on the top. I actually thought for a second of insisting on the plain navy socks…but then I thought of Jen. And of how Gal Smiley’s on an antibiotic right now for an ear infection, and she takes her medicine three times a day with an open mouth and no complaining, unlike the Captain, who must be sat on top of and his mouth forced open any time he has to take anything vaguely medicinal.

So I figured, what the hell, let her wear the yellow and red socks. Nothing can stop her plan for World Domination Through Cuteness, anyway.