I went to Babies'R'Us tonight to buy an old friend's new baby some stuff. That place freaked me out. Tiny things. Jingly things. Pastel things. Primary-colored car-emblazoned things. Cases of diapers. Inverted nipple pads.
The store was about to close, so it was vast and empty and bright and the Muzak was soprano saxophone-heavy and really, really loud. The employees were giving me the "hurry up so I can count down my register and go home, you slow-ass confused-looking bitch" stinkeye. I know that look well. When I worked retail I had at my disposal an arsenal of highly effective facial expressions ranging from thinly veiled contempt to black and unmitigated loathing.
Anyway, I got flustered and ran out of there with a big stuffed frog and a gift certificate, feeling like a total ass. I have a lot reasons why I either don't want or shouldn't have children, but tonight I think the most compelling is that I never want to step foot in that store again.