Zatera Ul

We were out and about a bit after dropping my car off at the mechanic (oil leak), and took a look around Babies R Us (or however they write it). I felt uncomfortable right away–cutesy pastel colors everywhere, hardly any plaid. Also, the ratio of salespeople to customers was at least 2:1. Every time I’d be about to start or finish a snarky comment to MFH, one would pop up and ask us if we needed any help. They seemed to come at us about every 30 feet. I’m not exactly their ideal customer, because I’m stubbornly convinced that a infant’s two primary needs are for Mom (about 75%, including breast milk) and diapers (15%), and the rest isn’t all that important. MFH: “Hey, this foofy walker thing with the magnetic drawing board looks cool!” (The walker had about 30 different toys attached to it.) Me: “Bah, baby Jesus didn’t have a foofy walker!” Salesperson (instantly appearing out of nowhere): “Can I help you find something?”

One of my comments was that before long, given current trends toward the total Nerfification of child environments, car seats would be egg-shaped pods filled with foam, with just a little window for the immobilized child to look out. MFH found a car seat that came close to that.

Afterward, we went to Target, where a bunch of corporately-dressed and name-tagged people from Kimberley-Clark were taking tours. MFH conspicuously put a box of Kleenex in the cart, and was (with steadily decreasing subtlety) trying to get them to notice it. By the time he was dancing around the aisles, holding the kleenex box aloft, singing a made-up kleenex song, pointing to it vigorously, they were looking in the other direction, alas. [MFH wrote that last sentence himself, but I had to correct his spelling.]