Branded
For people who don’t think, babies are the grown up equivalent of the Barbie doll. “He’s so cute!” the stranger exclaims as she passes the stroller in the diaper aisle of the supermarket. The baby knows nothing of the compliment, only that the designer shirt his mother bought for him from Abercrombie and Fitch itches horribly, and his only desire is to remove the monikered fabric as quickly as possible. He kicks his feet against his Graco Baby Deluxe stroller, wishing only to escape and rid himself of the chains of advertising. His mother thanks the stranger, how kind of her to compliment her pretty little baby boy!
As she returns home, the moment stays with her. Perhaps it is worth it to spend sleepless nights slaving over the baby’s Babies-R-US crib with his Pampers Huggie friend only to hear her husband call over the Graco baby monitor “dear, you’re just too noisy. I have to work tomorrow.” If only he knew what it’s like. Maybe it is worth it, the mother thinks, to have ruined her favorite pair of Earl jeans because the baby threw up all over them. Maybe some day the baby will thank me for dressing him stylishly.
The baby cries, then vomits in his car seat, distressed at how uncomfortably hot his Adidas warm-up pants are making him. The mother screams silently inside at the baby. “How could you throw up again? This is the third time today, I just can’t handle you anymore. There’s just too much work involved with you.”
The woman reflects silently to herself on the family planning meetings she went to with her husband, how the speaker, a neatly dressed woman in her 50s with polished nails and sagging skin, only praised parenthood. “Babies are a lot of work, but you know, they really are worth it.”
Worth it, the woman mumbles aloud to herself. Worth it.
She turns the car around, calls her mother, and drops the baby off for some grandma and grandson time.
And drives to the nearest Baby Gap. Yes, the baby will look adorable in the new fleece pullover outfit.
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