A Hand Me Down

With a baby, hand me downs are a definite plus.

After all, they’re going to wear an item once and grow out of it. And that’s if you’re lucky.

Yesterday, P.Pie sent The Squeaker and I to Target for a new pair of work shoes for me, a box of wipes for Squeaker, a head of cauliflower for dinner, and a four pack of 60 watt light bulbs.

That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

Those were my instructions.

List in hand and The Squeaker in one of those carts with a built-in, bolted-on infant seat we walked through the store. And we were met with a number of “Ooohs,” “Aaahs,” and “How cutes”. For a minute, I thought every woman in the place wanted me. But the reality was they wanted The Squeaker.

Anyway, as we strolled the aisles, I noticed that Squeaker’s snap up, long-armed and long-legged onesie had gotten decidedly smaller. It didn’t seem to expose her ankles and wrists when we left the house, but I’m a bit oblivious at times. (I can’t help it, I’m a man).

A couple of minutes later – as I’m arguing with the 16 year old chump register monkey punk electronics manager why Galaga, made in 1982, was a larger technological leap than, say, Need for Speed: Carbon – I hear this series of *tink* *tink* *tink* metallic popping sounds. [ed. note: contrary to what P.Pie says, in some Targets, the lightbulbs are indeed kept near the video games.]

A sound not unlike Gene Autry’s western wear shirt being ripped open at the snaps – only a smaller version. Like a really small Gene Autry with a really small western shirt being ripped open.

The chump register monkey punk electronics manager, who didn't even understand the existential arguments for Pong, looked down at Squeaker and asked in a pimply, snot-nosed way, “Dude, did you forget to button your daughter’s jumper?”

Stupid clerk. ANYONE can see it’s a snap up, long-armed and long-legged (SULALL) onesie, not a jumper.

I guessed that in her squirming excitement to see the latest video games available, she had popped her snaps from stem to stern. All 25 of them.

After giving her a quick raspberry on her exposed belly, I tried to snap her back up.

It didn’t fit.

The SULALL onesie had suddenly become too small for my daughter. I was perplexed, to say the least.

And it doesn’t end there.

Suddenly, seams were beginning to tear all over the SULALL onesie! I threw the 360 game I was holding into the basket and rushed over to infant section.

From the plastic baby seat, I could hear the stretch and snap of seams and cotton blend fabric. My daughter was becoming the Incredible Hulk Baby! (Sans turning green, of course. She saves that for her diaper.)

I stopped in the middle of the infant girls section and grabbed the first outfit I saw. Baby girl need something on before she got cold, riding in a plastic infant seat naked through Target. Oddly enough, it was the exact same outfit, only slightly larger. In fact, it was the last one, so we were in a bit of luck.

And just as quickly as the growth spurt started, it ended. The new outfit fit as well as the old one when we had left the house.

The funny part of the story happened when we checked out; the last thing I paid for was Squeaker’s new outfit. And rather than take it off, I merely place her on the conveyor belt, ala Maggie from The Simpsons opening bit, and the checker simple scanned her through.

As a post script, in all the confusion I guess the $80 XBOX360 game wound up it the stack of stuff to buy and found it's way into one of the shopping bags.

Can you believe P.Pie questions the veracity of the story? Why would I make that up?

Hmmpf. Women.

The Envelope, Please…

Today, the mailman (truthfully the mailwoman because, well, he’s a she) brought us an envelope, which, in and of itself is not that strange. After all, it is her job.

This standard white mailer announced that it came from 50% recycled material… how thoughtful. It was thin, with a two small plastic windows, one above the other, announcing the recipient and the sender. The recipient you can guess.

The sender was the twins’ birth hospital.

As you might guess, this was a bill. It is not the first bill we have received; nor will it be the last, I’m sure. But this particular bill was an itemized jobber for hospital services rendered for Doss. So basically it was all the stuff the hospital did for Doss, excluding doctors’ costs.

I was surprised by the pre-insurance total. In fact, stunned would be a fair descriptor.

Would you care to take a guess? Actually, I want you to guess. What’s that you say? Where’s the incentive? Well, let’s make contest out of it.

The person who can get closest without going over wins a new How About Two? t-shirt before they are available for purchase.

Geez, I feel like Bob Barker.