No... don't buy too much pink..

..And I didn't think I had. In case, you know, madam comes out with a wanger. Joseph insists should this be the case we should call her Connor - just like his best friend's baby brother. (He's not all that inventive, bless him... but still it's better than the Bumfarto he suggested a few months back..).
So I honestly thought that with the exception of the half price curtains, rug, lampshade, car seat and buggy (still boxed and in wrappers) there had been very little of the pink ilk bought.
Indeed packing my hospital bag I have slipped in only white baby-gros and hats and towels. There is nothing remotely girlie in there (apart from the mahoooosive night dress I will most likely give birth in... I reserve the right to retain at least a leeeeetle bit of glamour while I'm screaming for an epidural...).
Yesterday however I decided to sort through the new stuff (and that's not including the reams of stuff I have received pre-loved from generous friends and family). Sorting out the ickle baby stuff and 3-6 month stuff I came to the conclusion that I have in fact, bought quite a substantial amount of pink.
I've just been buying in things in little bits and pieces so I was not at all aware of what I was amassing. There were pink socks, pink tights, pink dresses, pink rompers, pink vests, pink cardigans, pink blankets, pink soothers, pink bibs (which say 'Nobody puts baby in a corner' - gotta love it), pink blankets, pink trousers, pink tops etc etc.
Five words.
Explosion. In. A. Marshmallow. Factory.