La Pequena Chica

First off, El Rancho Grande is still the best restaurant ever.

Had to get that out of the way.

A trip to El Rancho was my treat for participating in the arduous task known as "registering for baby shower." We were an hour and a half at Babies 'R' Us this evening, neck deep in pastels [which even makes Kelly gag]. Don't worry; I made it out alive.

I remember eight years ago when we were registering for our wedding. Now that was a good time. I wielded that price gun like Doc Holiday on the streets of Tombstone ["I'm your Huckleberry"]. It was the same task today, with a different purpose. The estrogen levels were awfully high. All the men in the place, accompanying their pregnant partners looked like they were being held hostage with no ransom in sight.

Look, don't get me wrong. I'm so excited about the little girl. I can't wait 'till she gets here. I'm looking forward to all the things fatherhood has to offer. But I don't care what color her sheets are, or what kind of sippie cups she'll use. But I guess it's stuff other people are going to get us. So I'll shut up now. Because I'm an idiot.

Did I mention we ate at El Rancho Grande tonight?