I have turned into one of those annoying people who buy noisy toys for other people's kids. Hey, I warned them! I told her mother if she didn't give me some idea about what her daughter would like for her 1st birthday, then I would buy her a drum kit.
Actually, I think we went one better than that.
Is this guitar ever fun to play with! We really didn't want to give it to her after all. (But the birthday girl was just so darned cute, we had to let go of it in the end.)
And the trip to Toys Backward R Us was a blast in itself. We haven't been there in a gazillion years, and we laughed scornfully at all the Dora the Explorer paraphernalia, as I am told by the newly-minted Spanish expert in the house, that the Spanish used is grammatically incorrect and besides, no Spanish-speaking person would ever name their child Dora. So we felt quite smug and intellectually superior to the hordes of mouth-breathers we were rubbing elbows with. We then proceeded to knock a few notches off our maturity levels by turning on all the noisy toys and then escaping to the next aisle, where we giggled and high-fived each other. And we are the most pathetic high-fivers; we always sort of miss.
In an example of life imitating art (or more likely, life imitating pointless rambling), mere days after I ranted about the perfume-abusing woman at work, what should I see on the front page of the Calgary Herald (slow news day much?), but the story of a woman who was refused admittance onto a city transit bus because she was wearing too much perfume!
Did I call that one? I feel like a futurist or something. Buy shares in pet cemetaries, laser eye clinics, and water rights, that's all I'm going to say on this matter.