The Emperor's New Clothes.

Colin has been given a number of great presents in his short life. I can't begin to thank everyone who has kept him warm, well-dressed, and entertained. Despite knowing I'm setting myself up for failure, I actually try to do exactly that: thank everyone. So here's another shout-out. This one is for Hanley.

One of my favorite parts of giving gifts to babies is that you can pretty much buy whatever you want, knowing that it'll get used eventually. You know, when he "grows into it." My delightful friend, Hanley, who I love and to whom I owe an email, was probably thinking just that when she purchased a slammin' pair of shoes for Colin. But Colin has a secret shame that is about to be made very public: he has hilariously fat feet.

It's as though Colin somehow inherited my super-swollen-by-pregnancy feet and ankles. But kept them. Long after I wasn't pregnant. They're that fat.

I don't mean 50th-percentile fat. Or has-to-wear-wide-shoes fat. I mean no-retailer-carries-shoes-like-this fat. Indeed, there is no shoe or sock in Colin's size that has come close to covering his feet. He has broken through elastic on socks, and lace-up shoes - even without the laces - are pointless. And his feet aren't just wide. They're also tall. So, even if some super-high-end cobbler made extra-wide shoes for the big-footed infant, they wouldn't be tall enough to help Colin. That is, till Hanley.

Hanley thought she was buying a pair of shoes for the walking-around version of Colin. For a one-year-old toddler, who needs his feet to toddle, and whose one-year-old feet fit into a one-year-old's shoes. Instead, what she really bought was a pair of high-enough, wide-enough, yet-still-totally-adorable shoes for my otherwise shoeless son. So, now, Colin gets to enjoy having his feet covered.

His face says he's still getting used to it, but his feet couldn't be happier.