Page 121 of Pregnant in Plaid
"Maybe we should hire someone," I suggest.
"We're Army Rangers. We can assemble a damn crib."
An older man pushing a cart stops beside us. He's wearing overalls and has the kind of weathered face that suggests he's seen some things. He glances at the screws we're holding, then at Patrice's list which I've unfolded on top of a display of power drills.
"First baby?" he asks.
"How can everyone tell?" I mutter.
He chuckles. "Because you're in the wrong section of the wrong store. You boys want Baby World. It's off Highway 1, about ten miles from here. Big pink building. Can't miss it."
"There's a whole store just for babies?" Gage asks.
"Son, there are entire warehouse chains dedicated to baby supplies. You're gonna want the one with staff who know what they're doing." He pats my shoulder sympathetically. "Good luck. You're gonna need it."
He walks away, and Gage and I stand there,surrounded by industrial screws and power tools, processing this information.
"A whole store," I say slowly. "Just for babies."
"We're idiots."
"Yep."
Baby World is, as promised, impossible to miss. The building is enormous and aggressively pink. There's a giant cartoon stork on the roof. The parking lot is full of minivans and exhausted-looking parents.
"I feel out of my depth," Gage says, staring at the entrance.
"Same. But we're committed now."
We walk in. Rows upon rows of baby items stretch in every direction. Things I didn't know existed. The store is playing soft lullaby music that makes me want to take a nap. Everything smells like baby powder and new plastic.
A saleslady appears beside us like she materialized from thin air. She's wearing a name tag that says "Yvonne" and a smile that suggests she's seen this exact scenario a thousand times.
"First baby?" she asks brightly.
"Does everyone just know?" I ask.
"It's the panic in your eyes," she says kindly. "And the fact that you're both standing in the entrancelooking like deer in headlights. What can I help you find?"
I hand her Patrice's list. She scans it, and her eyebrows climb steadily higher with each line.
"This is... comprehensive," she says diplomatically.
"Is it too much?" Gage asks hopefully.
"Not at all. You'll need everything here. Let me get you a cart—actually, two carts. And I'll walk you through the essentials."
Two carts. We need two shopping carts worth of baby supplies.
Patrice is going to kill me.
Yvonne leads us through Baby World with terrifying efficiency.
First stop: bottles. There's an entire aisle dedicated to bottles. Different nipple flows. Different shapes. Anti-colic. Anti-gas. Glass. Plastic. Wide mouth. Narrow mouth. Some that claim to reduce reflux, others that promise to prevent ear infections.
"Why are there so many?" I ask weakly.
"Every baby is different," Yvonne explains. "Some prefer one style, some prefer another. Since you don't know what your daughter will like yet, I recommend getting a few different types to try."
