Parent's Choice

Here's Betty at the Farmville Wal-Mart. She has graduated from the Bjorn to the shopping cart. We have some contraption that is supposed to create a cushy and sanitary place for the baby to sit, but with 2* Ph.D.'s (*ALMOST) between us, hell if we can figure out how it's supposed to go on. The one time we did get it on right Betty got hold of it on the way home and chewed on the side that had been on the seat anyway.

There's not much in Farmville in terms of shopping. We've got one bare-bones WalMart and a Kroger with an inexplicably well-stocked "Oriental" foods aisle. But for goodness sake if you need Jiffy cornbread mix, this Wal-Mart's got you covered. If anyone out there happens to notice that your high-falutin' WalMart carries the organic Parent's Choice infant formula, please let me know.

This is neither here nor there, but Betty is afraid of cellophane tape. She cries when you rip it off a box, and she cries when you dispense it, to, say, tape a scary face over a particularly irrisistible electrical outlet. So far that seems to be the only thing she's afraid of. (The tape, that is. The monster face has made no impression).