And that's not even what I need the good luck for.
I made the foolish mistake of prematurely attempting to purchase a training potty for my son. His sister is the one showing signs that she's ready to start the training process. I won't go into detail as to what those signs are, but some of you get the picture.
I had some free time last week so I conned @lizbrooks into joining me on a trip to Babies R' Us. And when I say conned, I mean she's the one who talked me into going. Babies R' Us is a suicide mission, in my opinion. You agree with me. But @lizbrooks likes the Sesame Street licensed toys. So she's always up for the trip. In fact, she usually instigates it.
While studying the various training potty options, I got that "dizzy-I-can't-handle-big-box-stores" feeling, so I gave up on finding Thomas' potty that he doesn't really need yet anyway, and decided to deal with some other items on my list.
Beach shoes. You know. Those hideously ugly water proof shoes that you slip onto babies so they don't cut their feet up on the glass. I mean the sand. Seriously, Long Island. Don't my tax dollars afford a load of new sand once a year?
Anyway, I was looking for those stylish foot gems when I noticed the entire rack were all size 2s. About 500 pairs, all hot pink, and all size 2! Not a single different size or color, until...
Eureka! I found two pairs deep in the middle of the rack! Both were electric green. And as luck would have it, one pair would fit Thomas, and one would fit Kate!
It felt like a psychological manipulation. Like Babies R' Us knew the sea of hot pink 2s would make me so happy to find the electric green pairs that I'd just buy them regardless of their hideousness. But the babies can't have the same color in different sizes! That's a quality-of-life issue I cannot cast aside.
So I ask the lady in the purple smock with the name tag that says 'Ask Me, I Like To Help', "Do you have these beach shoes in a different color? It will be too confusing if they both have the same color."
"Good luck with that."
Naturally, I giggled. I mean. She was kidding, Right?
Of course, WRONG. Where do I think I am? The leading baby crap store?
So, exasperated, I tossed the two electric green pairs of baby beach shoes into my cart and moved to the next item on my list.
Carter's size 24 clothes.
Even if you don't have kids, you know Carter's. Popular. Cheap. I just needed some things. So I looked around, lost in aisles of clothing, and who do I accidentally make eye contact with? The lady in the purple schmatta. I just know I'm setting myself up for disaster, but I ask it anyway.
"Carter's? Size 24?"
Without hesitation, or even a glance around the clothing section, she uttered her now infamous words, "Good luck with that."
I looked at @lizbrooks. She could smell my frustration. She's tour managed me through it enough times. @Lizbrooks rolled our shopping cart filled with hot green shoes, a training potty (she ended up grabbing one without telling me), new crib sheets and a "Tickle Me Elmo" toward the lady and said, "Good luck with that."
That's why we're best friends. And she's still my tour manager. And I love her.
And off to Buy Buy Baby we went.
ps-we found everything we needed, plus a really cute Puma tennis outfit for baby Kate!