Not much seen in fashion since 1985 or thereabouts, and perhaps with good reason, I have recently fallen in love with the concept of the tabard. You see, my dear sweet baby son is a spewer - spit-up, chuck, spew, posset, whatever you want to call it. A very happy spewer (and fear not dear reader, perfectly healthy) but regurgitated breast milk fills our days and drenches his clothing. And this was starting to worry me (and cost me hours doing laundry) - I was worried about his poor sweet chest getting cold.
I was thinking about some wool-lined bibs or some such when inspiration hit. There was a felted 100 per cent lambswool J Crew sweater stuffed in the cupboard upstairs which I was long planning to use to make some patchwork balls. I didn't, however, like it enough to actually make said patchwork balls. But I didn't get rid of it because everytime I looked at it I thought about the patchwork balls that I was supposed to make with it. Even though I knew that I never would - funny how the mind works.
Anyway, I finally put it to good use and cut some bibs out of it. Not bibs to keep him clean but at least to keep him dry and warm. And the argyle looks quite cute at this scale. And then I bought three more lambswool sweaters, as soft as I could find, on various thrift expeditions and elaborated on the style to create a tabard. He wears them between his inner layer (usually a onesie) and outer layer (long-sleeve t-shirt or whatever). Something about the fuzziness of the felted lambswool keeps them nicely in place and I know that he is warm and dry.
Given the amount that he chucks up, the amount that comes out the other end and the amount of weight that he is putting on (his rate of weight increase has recently increased), I am clearly reincarnated from a prize dairy cow.