There’s no real reason for this post except to say that LL has her first Lakers jersey.
Except, it’s really a crawler, but you don’t really refer to things like a baby’s “first Lakers crawler.”
The number is Pau Gasol’s, and this is not accidental but it’s also not what would be my first choice. (It is definitely not Mr. Right-Click’s first choice, either, since he refers to Gasol alternately as being such a “weak Euro” or “YES! OLE PAELLA!” depending on his mood and how well Gasol is playing that night.) The thing is, they only make kids and baby jerseys in a few players’ numbers, and I refuse to allow my child to wear a Kobe Bryant jersey until he/she is old enough to request it specifically. My feelings on Kobe Bryant are complex and I need not go into them at length here, suffice to say that, while I immensely respect his basketball skills I have questions about his character that preclude me from having my children wear his number without problematizing the matter a bit.
Which brings me to Mini, who is now old enough to ask for the Kobe jersey and indeed has done so. Now, I could have gone into the problems I have with this but this would involve me discussing things with Mini that he is light years away from understanding or even roughly conceptualizing. So instead I grudgingly accepted this fate as I had agreed to do so many years ago. I still wince whenever I hear him shooting baskets with his friends and saying, “I’m Kobe, you be Gasol.”
Life is complicated once they become too big for Trumpette socks with bows on them.