Hmm, let's see. White polo with khakis? Uh, too roasted-marshmallow. Blue Gingham with a touch of navy? Not until he goes to Harvard. Denim overalls with white socks? Whoa, we’re way too far north for that. Fisherman knit? Not bad, but it’s too hot. Red Sox shirt? Oh, please no. Crew neck? Button down? Onesie? Pjs? What else we got? As we pored through Shane’s clothes, he sat there with his big, blue eyes, cherub-rounded cheeks, perfect folds, pooches, dimples. There it was staring us in the face, just Shane baring it all. We (he) had it all along. So, not to leave a fold unturned, we even took off the diaper. For those long, naked hours, he cooed, rolled, smiled, scooched, chewed as we clicked and ga-gaaed at him. We came away with some images almost as perfect as little Shane, but more importantly, the reminder to simply show the true you, to bare it all. You dig? Right on. Now give me some skin.
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