Wednesday, June 21, 2006

gimme a buck for shrek's legs






It was the annual neighbourhood tag sale on the weekend so naturally I took the opportunity to hide some kid junk among the Nick Hornby novels and five-year old travel guides; purple ponies with irrevocably matted manes, a palm-sized carriage carrying a frizzled Cinderella, a barbie from Italy in full bridal regalia. And so on. While we made $100 (most of which was spent by day's end on Dairy Queen, Tim Horton's and some over-priced boconcini) it was sweet relief to unload some junk. Or so I thought.

With the potential for a meltdown high, the kid was given a pocketful of coins and sent across the street to hang with her gang. She proceeded to do the garage sale version of a pub crawl, spending a few minutes at each house's kid table, casting a careful eye over the goods. I forgot how far kids can stretch a buck. She returned an hour later with a clammy No Frills bag loaded with - to a three-year old's eyes - some seriously rockin' loot. Like, for instance, these Shrek legs. Why Shrek sans upper body was even for sale is anyone's guess (though I'm certain someone must have asked the same question about the matted ponies).

After some strategic questioning ["what are you going to do with Shrek's legs, honey?"] that went nowhere, it was evident the kid was not going to forsake them. True to her word the Shrek legs have turned up unexpectedly over the last three days, kind of like the Travelocity gnome.

Monday, June 19, 2006

An Unconventional Father's Day


Also titled "why we love Target." Yes, friends, our day of fatherly celebration was spent in the air conditioned confines of the big red bullseye in Niagara Falls NY. Which, in case anyone is ready to beatify my husband, was actually his idea.

Three hours and two loaded shopping carts later, the only reason we left was a crying baby that I couldn't bear to nurse in the not-so-great bathroom. Why do these places never learn? A department full of great baby gear for sale and an ill-equipped and unforgiveably dirty washroom. Why, why why? The marketing geniuses at IKEA have it figured out. Their family washrooms are a shining beacon to every other retailer operating a public loo; proper diaper change tables, not those precarious wall-mounted things, a stash of emergency diapers, a decent armchair for nursing, enough room to spin your Maclaren around and a few toys to keep the toddler amused. And it's all stuff they sell. Brilliant. But I digress.

Why, you ask, would we spend a precious summer Sunday traversing the QEW to a big box store with sub-standard toilets? Because where else can you find a coveted product, one that as far as I know, hasn't even hit the shelves in Toronto, on clearance? It was worth the drive with a 3-year old (who sang Puff the Magic Dragon the.entire.way.) and aforementioned baby in tow, it was worth having to sit in the backseat the entire way, it was worth having to eat lunch at Bob Evans (a depressing ritual my husband won't forsake) because I scored a gorgeous and clever Boon potty for 20 bucks. As my three-year old would say, ha-ha-a-boo-boo.