I should not be allowed in Babies “R” Us. I might be a woman in the prime of her baby-making years, but the last thing on my to-do list right now is painting a nursery. Sure, the idea of having children is not one that I have sworn off entirely, but right now I want to focus on working and finishing school, and at the rate I’m going it’s going to be at least ten years until I’m going to actually want to pee on a plastic stick.
But tonight, for about one hour, my lovely biological clock decided to freak out, causing my voice to jump 3 octaves while I got stupidly excited over a onesie with a bow-tie. Welcome to Babies ‘R Us: the store that might actually be able to empty my savings account if I let it.
I’m not saying there is anything wrong with Babies “R” Us. I’m also not implying that there is anything wrong with my very real human instinct to get very happy when I see anything associated with a tiny human. I’m just saying that I probably looked a little bit ridiculous as I pranced around the store looking for things that would look great in my imaginary child’s nursery.
That being said, it was kind of fun having baby fever for a little bit. And, if anything, my cousin’s little one will benefit from the 20 minutes I spent carefully deciding which baby book she would like best.