My Dearest Eleanor:
You may have noticed a certain nervousness that enters my aura when I’m picking out your clothing. You see, my dear, daddy has a tiny shortcoming: he’s colorblind. I mean, he can tell the difference between a green and red traffic light (well, most of the time…) and other important items. But he has a hard time matching, say, socks to shirts and pants to hats. Accessories are trouble, I tell you.
So, I’m sorry for all of the pink. I have this theory that pink always matches pink, so I tend to go with that theme. (I’m not sure that this theory is actually true.) Oh, and about the denim: I believe that jeans go with absolutely everything. (I’m a little more sure about this theory.)
So a couple of days ago, I was quite unsure about those corduroy pants. To hedge our bet, I kept your legs covered by that (pink) blanket at the grocery store. But I’m afraid the guy at the shoe store saw the whole outfit. Mommy told me later that the pants really didn’t go with that sweater. I thought the pants matched the eyes of that cat, but they didn’t, and I’m very, very sorry.