During the earlier months of our pregnancy people would ask us, "Have you done the nursery yet?" and Barb and I would scoff. "We're not 'doing' any goddamn nursery," I'd say. "The baby can sleep in our room." Or maybe, "We'll roll the crib into the office, but that's it. No painting, no decorating. It's a baby! What does it care if there's a mural of dancing clowns on the wall??"
Looking back, it seems so naive. After a trip to IKEA (I got a love/hate thing going with that company that may take years and thousands of dollars to resolve) we now have a nursery: cute area rug featuring a dragon, red dresser full of nappies and clothes, Klimt print; and of course the crib and rocker we already had. All in all, it looks like a nursery (albeit the nursery of the coolest newborn in SE Portland).
Can't wait to find out what belief is next to crumble before the inexorable power of the babychild.