Is that a baby girl gift basket he's carrying?? Imagine when you're pregnant and he's just buying random stuff to fill the nursery room.. 🙈
“Niall, is this a potty seat?” You’re so confused looking through the massive amount of bags he’s lugged home from the store.
He doesn’t even look up at you from his spot on the floor. He’s got stacks of swaddling blankets, bibs, and onesies spread out in front of him. From what you can tell, he’s organizing them by color and size.
“You know kids don’t get potty trained until, like, three years old right? What are we going to do with it until then?”
He looks at you incredulously. “Store it away. Can’t be too prepared.”
You roll your eyes and dig into the next bag. It’s filled with bottles, teething rings, sippy cups, pacifiers of all different shapes and sizes. “What did you do, walk through each section of the store and get one of each?” Your voice is bordering on a screech, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of the hormones or the obvious waste of money.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t get one of each, I had my consumer guide with me. I only bought the top three items from each category.” He says this nonchalantly, as if this is a completely normal occurrence for new parents. You mutter about the definition of insane and dig to the bottom of the bag.
“THREE TUBES OF NIPPLE CREAM!?” Your mouth hangs open in shock and disbelief of what you’re holding.
He grabs the tubes from you and shows you the back label of one. He speaks as though explaining something to a small child. “This one is just lanolin, it’s supposed to be the most popular”, he grabs the other tubes and goes on, “these two are organic and had the best ratings by lactation consultants.”
You rub your hand across your face and take a deep breath. “Hand it over.”
He furrows his brow and looks at you. “Hand what over?”
“The consumers guide. You’re cut off. I never thought these words would leave my mouth, but, I’m drawing the line at nipple cream. Hand it over.”
He reluctantly reaches behind him and hand over the tattered magazine he’s been consulting for months.
Crossing his arms, petulantly he huffs out, “Fine. But don’t come crying to ole Nialler when yer nips are about to fall off from the midnight feed.”