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LEARNING CORNER

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I’ve decided that I need new bottles. Currently, I have the Tommee Tippee ones with the air vent system. If you’ve never seen this bottle, all you really need to know is that it’s more complex than a space shuttle and it certainly has more components. I am so fed up with washing all the little plastic pieces that I have decided it’s time to switch to the Winnebago.

I’ve seen them before. They are made by Gerber and they’re nice and simple. So simple that I think I’ve even seen monkeys use them. I call them Winnebagos, because they look like they are from the 70’s and are 100% practical. No gadgets or gismos, just your standard bottle. This is exactly what I need.

So I go to the store in hunt of the fabulous Winnebagos. As I am pushing the stroller up the aisle, I hear someone say something over the intercom asking for security in section five.

Am I in section five? Do they think I’m shoplifting? I have been slowly meandering up and down the aisle putting little things in the bottom of the stroller, so it is highly possible that they think I am.

A jolt of excitement shoots through my body. This could be the day!

I suppose I should tell you that I have a secret fantasy that someone someday will accuse me of shoplifting. They’d send security over to check my bags and come up with nothing. Then I’d act all indignant and tell them how dare they accuse an innocent mother of shoplifting when she’s never shoplifted anything in her life. At this point, Buddha Baby would start to cry and I’d say, “Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to go give my baby a Winnebago.”

I have the same fantasy about being pulled over by the police and being given a breathalyzer. Except in my fantasy I am pregnant and the police officer looks down at my giant belly and feels like a complete fool for wanting to give a breathalyzer to a pregnant person.

Like I’ve told you before, I have issues.

In the end, I don’t get to act indignant, because no one stops me to accuse me of anything.

It’s just another disappointing shopping trip.

Namaste,
The Meditative Mom

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