Page 30 of My Secret Snowflake
A tender expression passes over Sebastian’s face as he touches, very gingerly, the pillow. Seeing his narrow fingers splayed on my “belly” definitely does something to my insides.
“Don’t worry. I can’t feel your touch,” I say.
He blushes. Actually blushes.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. I just realized it would be something to bring a baby into this world.”
He looks a little shell-shocked.
Poor Sebastian.
“Maybe you’ll have to rethink your forever-single status?”
He raises his glance to mine. “Maybe.” He looks down at his watch. “That sales lady said the competition kick-off is at the back of this first floor, by the toilets.”
We walk to the back of the store. It’s easy to spot the competition, such as it is. This definitely isn’t some marathon with a bunch of lean running machines. It looks more like a penguin huddle. One woman looks like she could give birth any minute now.Would that be good or bad publicity for Baby Love if someone gave birth during its scavenger hunt? And does employee job training include delivering babies?
The saleswoman is giving instructions. “So figure out the clues, take a picture of yourself with your answer, and report back here in forty-five minutes. We’ve mixed up all the clues so that you shouldn’t necessarily run into other contestants. And then we’ll have the one-handed stroller opening contest.”
“Are you sure we’re allowed to compete when we’re not pregnant?” I whisper to Sebastian.
“I checked the rules. There’s no requirement to be pregnant. And we are competing on behalf of a pregnant woman who could use all this stuff. This is her first baby. And I don’t think she and her husband make that much.”
And what if Dream Company does close? Then she won’t even have a paid maternity leave.
“On your mark. Get set. Go,” the contest coordinator yells.
A determined look grips Sebastian’s face. He rips open the envelope and reads the clue:
“You’re my very best friend, it’s true! Doo doo doo doo, doo doo. Every day when I make my way to the___.”
“What on earth,” he says.
The look of shock on his face is priceless. I giggle.
“It’s the rubber duckie song, fromSesame Street. It’s a tub. C’mon, let’s find the baby bathtubs and take a picture with them,” I say.
“Of course. The rubber duckie song. If only I still had that on my playlist…”
“C’mon. No time for sarcasm.”
“See, I knew you needed to come,” Sebastian says. “I would have been thrown by this first clue.”
We study the store map listing the department locations. I take a photo of it. Other couples head off.
“It’s definitely an advantage if you’ve shopped here before and know the store layout,” Sebastian says. The bathing section is on the second floor. We hurry up the stairs, passing another couple on the escalator.
“So did you ask Ernest my questions?” I ask as we get to the top.
“Yes,” Sebastian says. “He likes chocolate in his cookies.”
“Over there!” I point to the back of the store. A big rubber duck sign indicates the bathing section. We jog over there. “That’s what you got?”
“He doesn’t read or have any hobbies. Golf socks are the way to go,” Sebastian says.
We skid to a stop in front of the tubs.
