I found myself in a weird predicament the other day while shopping at Super Walmart. Steve and Sam were acting absolutely atrociously together, so I sent them off to find something (can't remember what) while I proceeded on to the grocery section of the store. Of course, this led me directly past...you guessed it...the BABY section. Yee haw!
So I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the onslaught as I pushed my cart as fast as I could down the aisle that would lead me to the paper products (we were in desperate need of toilet paper). I prayed nobody would step out in front of me because I didn't want to (a) mow anyone down, and (b) slow down or...heaven forbid...stop.
But, as luck would have it, as I approached the baby section, a family with a newborn baby girl (wrapped from head to toe in pink, so I hope it was a girl...) stepped out to look at the perfect little Christmas dresses.
I slowed down.
And there was the cutest little baby blue outfit with Christmas trains all over it. Onesies and pants and hats...mix and match...and on sale.
I had an almost irresistable urge to pick up an outfit and put it in my cart.
Huh? Wha? Have I lost my freaking mind? Our baby is dead and we don't need any cute little Christmas outfits!
When I met up with Steve and Sam again later, I told Steve about the outfits but I didn't tell him I almost bought one. I half hoped he would ask to go back and look at them himself...I hoped he would say, "So why don't you buy one?" But of course, he didn't.
Our baby is dead and we don't need any cute little Christmas outfits.
Our baby is dead and we don't need Christmas pictures.
Our baby is dead and we don't need a Baby's 1st Christmas ornament.
Our baby is dead and we're supposed to celebrate the miracle birth of someone else's baby.
Our BABIES are dead and we're supposed to celebrate the miracle birth of someone else's baby.
Fake it till ya make it and all that.