Pumped...

There are few things I enjoy more than shopping on the last Saturday before Christmas, a few meaning anything.

Nevertheless, my wife and I went out to spend a little Christmas money.  I remember when Christmas money was meant to be wasted, maybe not wasted but spent without thought to the future.  This is no longer the case.  Christmas money—as in Christmas bonuses, gifts, money found on the street, or however else it comes into my possession will quickly be spent on baby stuff.  Not baby stuff as in fun stuff like say, a stuffed monkey or a basketball.  No, baby stuff as in a changing pads, or a glider chair, or even worse...much worse.

I found myself in Target looking at breast pumps.  Yes, the events that have transpired in my life have taken me to the aisle in the store featuring devices with suction cups that look like air horns.  While my wife looked at the various makes and models (low speed, fast speed?), I slowly began taking a few steps back mumbling something about a sale on shoelaces before turning and sprinting, running away like I was being chased. He’s very mature for his age—said not one of my teachers ever.

I wasted what I thought was a suitable amount of time for any reasonable person to pick out a breast milk pumping apparatus, before heading back to the baby section, catching a scowl from some guy wearing an ill fitting cap on his head and a XXXXL shirt.  Look, why do you have to be a tough guy in the maternity section of target?  I get it, you’re cool. 

Moving on, I arrive back to find my wife being assisted by a guy with his daughter.  One of his daughter’s actually, and this guy seemed to know a thing or two about breast pumps.  Helpful and pleasant, the man explained that he has three daughters and recommended the pump my wife was holding.  I stood towards the back, snickering like an adult when the topic of leak pads arose, prompting my wife to thank the nice man as we put the most expensive breast pump in our cart.

On the way home, I started thinking, was there a time when breast pumps made him feel uncomfortable?  Was he ever scared? Does Target place “Dads” in the aisles to recommend the most expensive breast pumps?