Registry and Breasts

Last week we went baby shower registry shopping at Target (not exactly a Top 5 on most guys' lists of awesome things to do on your lunchbreak) . This trip consisted of the wife making mostly prudent and responsible choices regarding baby gear, with a few pregnancy mania-induced overshopping crazes sprinkled in. My only role was to approve or deny her choices and hold the lazer scanner gun while shooting everything in sight. My inner dialogue during the hour long shopping/zapping fest consisted entirely of futuristic space ray gun sounds: zap, peeoow, ziing! I was able to resist the urge to scan the wife's boobs, but only after she saw me lining the gun up and then told me not too.

The only item that I really dug in on was a 3 piece San Diego Charger warm up set. He's a boy, it will look adorable, and even though I never played football I do love me a pair of comfy sweat pants. When he's old enough the boy can make his own sporting and clothing decsions, but for now I get to live out my little fairy tale sports dreams through his infancy.

The only weird part about registry shopping, other than the fact that we were buying clothes for someone that still lives in a giant liquid pouch, was when we were shopping for bottles and a nice young lady asked if she could give us some good advice. I thought she was going to recommend one brand or style of bottle over another, instead she went on a probably 5 minute run of how you must time "pulling the baby off the boob" at exactly the right time. Otherwise the kid will either become boob dependent (uh, he is a guy) or bottle dependent. I know she was trying to be helpful and share her experience, but the whole thing felt really odd. Especially when you're like me and can't stop overthinking every situation and you realize that this girl is not only talking about my wife's breasts, but also giving us pretty intimate details about her own chest situation. It was a man test of will and I would like to think I passed without cracking up or telling her to mind her own business. I hope to not have any future boob-based conversations with strangers at Target, but if I do at least I know I'm battle tested now.