Concerned

R has a beard, a moustache and long hair. He’s a good-looking guy though, trust me. His furry choices don’t resemble the current Brad Pitt iteration of facial hair or the hipster full beard mistake. He’s Mr. Trim and he knows how to work it. Here’s the thing though: babies don’t like it. I think it’s in the clown category for them. It’s unfamiliar and unfamiliar equals scary. Like beets for me.

We have a one-year-old friend who is otherwise pretty placid, but when he spies R, he goes quiet, assesses for a moment and then his small face crumples.

Our own baby will arrive in a couple of months and we’ve been considering the situation. My thinking is that our child will swing the other way. Not gay (well, maybe gay – who knows?) but hair-friendly instead of hair phobic. After all, what else will she know? R’s the man in her life.

That’s the good news. But you know how girls supposedly end up dating guys who look like their dads? That’s a little creepy all to itself, but now I’m worried she’ll wind up with a preference for the shady end of R’s spectrum, like a.) terrorists, b.) drug dealers, or, worst, c.) hippies.

I’m not sure what to do to prevent her from subconsciously being drawn to kicking it with the Taliban, stoners or the cartel. Maybe we’ll paper her room with stills from Mad Men. Or we could run Magnum P.I. in a loop in the nursery to get her clued in to the retro ‘stache vibe. Or, I guess, we could just hope she’ll swing the other way and go for clean-shaven blondes just to spite us.

I need to start crossing stuff off my anxiety list. This is right behind, “Don’t let her fall off the deck,” and, “No drinking bleach.” I think that’s my priorities in order, right?

(Thanks, Swiss Miss, for the onesie tip-off.)