I believe I have mentioned once or twice or seventeen dozen times that Ezra is not a big fan of "toys," particularly toys that are generally labeled as such or come from the toy store or contain no choking hazards or are anything that he did not retrieve himself from the garbage. So he's more or less content to wander around the house with empty paper towel tubes, Chinese food takeout receipts, and electrical outlet covers from God-knows-what outlet, but I bet it's one near some forks. Last week he carried around a Victoria's Secret coupon mailer that featured a woman's polka-dot-panty-clad ass for three days straight.
All that changed this weekend.
You know you have to special order blue or gender-neutral doll strollers? And pay twice as much for privilege? Or you can just grab the nearest $9.99 Pepto Bismol version at Target and watch your son lose his damn mind over it?
For hours. HOURS. "Bye!" he says cheerfully before heading off into the nearest wall with tremendous purpose.
He is not overly concerned with his baby's comfort, body placement, or species.
And sometimes whether they stay in the stroller for the entire ride is a meaningless detail. To his credit, though, if you point out that the stroller is empty he will run back through the house, shrieking "BABY! BABY!" before finding it in the dining room and roughly shoving it back in the stroller by its eyeballs.
Other passengers have included a variety of grimy naked baby dolls, a sippy cup, one of my shoes, and that aforementioned asstastic Victoria's Secret coupon mailer. I allow it. He's pretty damn attached.