an excersause in futility
the other day as i was coming home from a stroll with le bebe, i chanced upon french neighborlady ("O, LA PETITE! CA VA, MINOU?!"). she was just getting home with her nonfrench husband, her little girl and her 6-year-old tasmanian devilboy -- let us all pause right here and praise allah that the nice guys did not have a boy -- and she said DO YOU WAHNT OUR EXCERSAUCER? SHE EES TOO BEEG FOR EET NOW AND WE WILL JUST TROW EET AWAY EEF YOU DONWANT EET. so, figuring as she is french and stylie and she has given us french stylie babyclothes, i said "we would love to take the excersaucer off your hands. thank you."
and i went up to their apartment with them and i waited as her husband disappeared into the background only to reemerge with ... the most hideous chunk of plastic ever found in a Fisher Price factory-reject outlet. look at this (and please try not to sue me if you go blind):
sadly, those are the actual colors. i mean, i don't know whether to start with the medieval theme (turrets? a little plastic king and queen? a transparent evil court jester head, what the fuck?) or the seat, tastefully lined in a purple, orange, red, green, yellow and blue harlequin pattern. it looks like someone went to ye olde renaissance faire, drank too much mead and barfed up the leggos they had eaten for lunch. and it's HUGE. it easily takes up one-tenth of our apartment.
now this is a particularly egregious example, but it cements in my mind an awful, awful truth: baby toys are heinous. why, i ask you, are baby toys so heinous? our apartment, done in understated late-century IKEA, is gradually being overrun by bulky, chunky plastic crap, largely in bold primary colors. why? does it have to be this way? a hundred years ago, babies had beautiful, hand-crafted wood toys. now? we have offensively-colored mass-produced molded carcinogens. our apartment is small, otherwise we could keep all the heinous baby crap exiled to some remote corner of our place, but as it is, with barely 850 square feet to our name, we are losing the battle. there is no remote corner. just ask our cats, who live in terror of the day the baby realizes they exist.
and you know what's more depressing than slowly drowning in a sea of cheap plastic blue-and-white garbage? the baby, she just loves her excersaucer.