Well. Nothing much happening, other than that we've been sleeping with a kind of quiet desperation. We're beginning to think Friday was just the baby's warning shot across our bow. HEY! I'M COMING! GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER! 36 hours later, our act is shakily holding together (pay no attention to the duct tape and twine, please). The crib is assembled, the laundry's done, the leaves are raked, the bags are packed.
A confession. We went to BabiesRUs last night to return some stuff and buy some other stuff, and not only didn't the world end, it was actually quite pleasant. We were greeted by a friendly woman at the registry desk who helpfully directed us to Guest Services. This ran counter to our expectations. We thought that upon entering the store we'd be immediately caught in a man-trap net dropped from the ceiling, surrounded by chanting associates in gowns and vestments embroidered with cute giraffes and duckies and led by an assistant manager trainee named Greg who would imperiously wave a ceremonial rattle-shaped BabiesRUs sceptre, and carted away to a featureless, fluorescent-lit back room where we'd be relentlessly programmed into buying carloads of unnecessary plastic crap. But it wasn't like that at all. Greg was very nice and patient; he only made us repeat the BabiesRUs Creed ("I believe in the sanctity of child restraint safety systems, in the holy trinity of Graco, Evenflo, and Boppy; I believe in the accessorization of infants and toddlers. . . ") twenty times before releasing us, instead of the usual fifty recitations. We'll be going back.
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