Campaigning for a change
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Here's the good news: A lot of people care passionately about the upcoming election, the future of the nation, the pressing issues of our day.
Here's the reality check: Your infant isn't one of them. Even if he's wearing a onesie that says "Tiny Democrat."
In an election year when emotions run high, political baby gear is the latest hot commodity, easy to find on candidates' websites or trendy online stores. Much of it is bipartisan in spirit and fairly benign. You can dub your kid a "Teensy Republican" - or a "Weepublican," if you're feeling clever - or put him in a shirt that says, "Don't blame me, I can't vote till 2026." Some clothes are cute, bordering on obvious: More than one T-shirt artist has come up with a permutation of "My Mama's for Obama." Another Obama onesie on the market declares, "I need a change."
As the mother of a 4-year-old, with another one due within the month, I know how hard it is to resist the siren call of adorable baby clothes. Or the temptation to turn your tot into an extension of your personal style - or make her into the ironic hipster you wish you were, yourself. The sheer volume of sassy-baby outfits on the market is dizzying. And if you're not already consumed by class warfare these days, high-end baby clothes will fill you with rage over Wall Street excess. Look through the pages of Cookie magazine, the glossy journal of parental conspicuous consumption, and you'll find page after page of haughty little kids decked head-to-toe in Burberry and Lacoste.
If you're going to turn your infant into a prop, I suppose it's not so bad to inject a bit of meaning; you can channel your consumerist impulses into $35 booties shaped like zebra-print high-heeled pumps, or buy a "Barackabye Your Baby" onesie on
But the idea of an activist baby is also a little disturbing, given the state of political rhetoric today. This is an arena of name-calling and knee-jerk hatred; comments on blogs can be nastier, and a fair amount more childish, than any spat I've seen in a playground sandbox. Even the candidates, some of whom strove to look noble for a while, are starting to act like schoolyard bullies or snotty tattletales. And it turns out you can have that hostility printed on a onesie, too.
Take a quick Internet spin and you'll find slogans like "McCain Scares Me" or "Pro-Woman, Anti-Palin," which comes with a picture of Sarah Palin's head decorated with horns. You can dress your child in a shirt that says "President Poopoohead" (with a picture of George Bush) or a onesie that says "Satan is pro-choice." Or a T-shirt modeled on the "Sopranos" logo, labeled "The Abortionists: Whacking Babies since 1973." You can even reference older political battles. I found a onesie that squeezed in a polemic about the brain-damaged Florida woman who got everyone worked up three years ago: "Terri Schiavo 1963-2005. Victim of the U.S. Judicial System. We will not forget!"
That one - like all baby clothes - says more about the parents than the kid. The most redeeming thing about political onesies is the fact that babies can't read. Some people gripe that it's wrong to impose personal politics on children, but the under-two crowd is hard to brainwash. If you can't impose your views about broccoli consumption, you won't be swaying junior's political ideals.
And one thing you learn quickly, as your child grows up, is that her real opinions are shockingly tough to steer. Our 4-year-old doesn't have many firm political stances yet, but she certainly knows what she thinks about clothes. In her pre-talking stages, we dressed her almost entirely in orange and brown. Now that she's 4, she'll only wear clothes with pre-sanctioned amounts of pink.
To goad her into wearing sneakers this fall, we had to meet her criteria: Disney Princesses, light-up heels, sparkles, and flowers. My husband says her new white sneakers look like "grandma shoes," but my daughter doesn't care. She's got her loyalties, and she's sticking to them.
