Have you met my brother? That's him, the punk rock listening, Harley-Davidson riding, bad ass truck driver that spent the second half of his formative years tormenting this pesky little sister. And I adore him. I think he is hilarious and I know he's not nearly as tough as he shows.

Fast forward about 20 years and suddenly he and his brightly spirited wife are expecting a baby. A baby! That guy is going to HAVE A BABY TO CARE FOR. Holy shit. I mean, I'm sure he can do it, but I can't help but remember all the times he frightened me to the depths of my being and we were just going to see his girlfriend. I was about 8 and he was about 17 and he had been left with the responsibility of babysitting me for the evening. His girlfriend lived a few towns away and of course that meant miles of winding back roads for that freewheeling teen. I still shudder when I think about a particular single lane bridge over a creek nestled in a cornfield on Sauerkraut Lane that my brother would hit at such speed we would launch into the air and land with just enough time to squeal around the sharp elbow turn narrowly missing a hand built stone farm wall. We lived, and I'm sure his baby will too. Somehow.

The nightmares still haunt me.

But he's my brother and I wouldn't be the incredibly accepting individual I am today if it hadn't been for him. So what kind of gift do you make for that guy's baby? That guy that loves to be a bad ass. I mean he can't walk around with some fluffy fleece blanket with tiny giraffes speckled across it. He just can't. So I made this blanket and burp cloth set, because nothing says baby like black with skulls. Good luck little one.