We all know kids don’t really understand how good they have it. All their meals are prepared for them, people beg them to take naps and they pay no rent. Also, thanks to the industrial revolution and the frenzied culture of consumerism it gave birth to, kids have literally every product in the world manufactured for their comfort.
And you know what? THEY DON’T DESERVE IT. Here are some of the products my daughter enjoys that she clearly does not appreciate, and that I wish I could have for myself.
(Or maybe I just want to be a kid again. That’s possible, too.)
The Bundle Me
The Bundle Me is….well, it’s amazing. It’s basically a warm cuddly shower curtain that you strap around your kid to keep them warm in their car seat, lest even the tiniest puff of Lady Winter’s chilly breath graze their innocent baby skin. I spend a lot of the time in the car, too, JJ Cole. I get cold too, Britax. And like my 15-month-old, I also like to be snuggly and warm, Summer Infant. I’ve felt in the inside of that thing. It’s like being wrapped up inside Mr. Roger’s sweater. It’s like falling into a Norman Rockwell painting. While my daughter’s in the backseat having a spa experience inside a fleecy cloud, I’m up in the front freezing my toes off.
It can’t be just me, people. I spend more money replacing my lost winter gloves than I do on student loan interest. I am way past the point of my life where I care what people think of me. It’s all about dollars and cents now. If I were better at sewing, I would fasten my gloves to the sleeves of my coat myself and wear it like a giant adult bunting. But I’m not, so I need this product made for me, please.
The baby carrier
Yeah, yeah, yeah, independence is great, I’m an adult, I get to vote and drink and see PG13 movies, yada yada yada. Guys, some days, I just want to be strapped to my mom and make zero decisions for myself, you know what I mean? Where is the Infantino Mei Tai that’s safe for up to 160 pounds?
Why is my kid the one to get stickers at Target? She did zero work during this shopping trip, other than exhibiting Cirque Du Soleil-quality acrobatics to twist herself 180 degrees while strapped into the cart seat. Can I get a sticker for my accomplishments, please? Maybe it could say, “I earned the money for this box of wine and value pack of rubber gloves” or “I am wearing clean clothes today.” I want to feel appreciated too, checkout lady. Would it kill you to have a couple packs of these beauties on hand for hot mess moms like me?
Insanely short books
My daughter’s toddler version of Moby Dick is literally six words and people always clap for her when she finishes it. Cliff Notes isn’t even that short. Meanwhile, I’m slugging through 300 pages of “The Mystery of Edwin Drood” for book club and nobody even gives me an approving glance.
I kinda just want to be a kid again sometimes, you know? To snuggle up in my own personal cloud of comfort while someone sees to my every need sounds pretty good when I’m running on 45 minutes of sleep and on my fourth consecutive episode of Daniel Tiger.
Kids. They get all the perks.