Back when I was in high school, I used to carry a massively heavy bookbag. I can’t remember how much it weighed, but it had the books for all of my classes in it. I never used my locker. It was a pain, but no less a pain than having to make trips to my locker in our sprawling high school.

It wasn’t until I saw myself on campus news that I saw the problem. I looked terrible carrying it. I loved the utility of it, but I was wading through the hallway hunched over in a way that accentuated my weight (which, by that point, wasn’t all that bad, but made all the worse by my posture). I bought a reasonably-sized bookbag the following week. I immediately started getting compliments. Only some actually pointed to the bag. With a couple of girls (and this was important), it was “You look different, Will.”

I bring that up as a reference point. I’m big on big bags, by nature. Even if it’s forty pounds and I can’t carry it upright. I overpack on trips. It’s a character flaw trait.

Shortly before Lain was born, I purchased a new dufflebag to replace the one I had recently purchased where the shoulder strap had snapped (because, ta-da, I was putting too much in it). Anyhow, I had purchased the wrong size of bag. It wasn’t nearly big enough. Then Lain was born and I looked at it and saw “Hey, this is the perfect diaper bag. It has pockets for everything and I can fit sooooo much inside it. Diapers. Clancy’s breastfeeding stuff. Bum cream. A changing pad. With room to spare!

Clancy and I have been playing tug-of-war ever since. She keeps taking what little we need and putting it in a smaller bag. Then, when I am taking Lain somewhere, I move it all to the bigger bag. I think her bag is too small and not nearly comprehensive enough. She thinks my bag is cumbersome and overkill whenever something smaller would do.

But seriously, why go smaller when you can have something bigger? It’s not even affecting my posture!