Monday, January 31, 2011
I Likea my IKEA, floor G.
Now, if you go there during lunchtime, and you don't eat meatballs, and you don't like blandish pasta, having your mom bring spiced idlis in aluminum foil is a huge blessing. We inhaled them into our tummies within 2 minutes.
And then, mainly because we were guilty about using IKEA's tables without buying IKEA's food, I insisted that we should buy me a dessert and some tea to go with it.
I don't cook enough, and since my mother is wonderful enough to make us breakfast, lunch and dinner from scratch, I bought us a pretty stainless steel pot with a cover and blamed her for it on my blog.
None of the stuff I've bought for prospective baby has much color to it. Yes, yes, baby stuff is supposed to be lurid shades of primary colors, because that's what's 'fun'. But see, I figure that if baby is going to be all Harajuku with his life, I'd rather he choose his fluorescents himself, so that he won't grow up and say, "what was my mother thinking?". He'd only have himself to blame (snigger). But something about the way IKEA interprets bright and cheerful children's rooms makes me feel like the Grinch Who Stole Color. So, to make myself feel like a better mother, I bought a few multicolored baby- hangers. Sacrifices, sacrifices.