When I was little, a friend of my mom’s gave a box of her kids’ outgrown clothes to us. I misheard during the exchange, thinking they were called “handy-down clothes.” This mistake persisted embarrassingly long into my adulthood. But my innocent take on the act of kindness makes sense. Hand-me-downs are handy.
After Teddy outgrew his little dude clothes, I gave them away to a friend and my sister-in-law. Both were expecting boys. It was perfect. I held back a few keepsake items, like the sleepers they wore home from the hospital and a few of my favorite tiny t-shirts.
Like this one.
Because of my sentimentality, my three youngest geniuses have something in common.