A day after purchasing this stroller, it took Nate 15 minutes to locate his pants from last night.
This amuses me to no end.
So, yeah, we bought a stroller—totally unplanned.
Yesterday, Nate and I went into this nondescript baby store because, well, I can’t help it. As I’m checking out the cute mobiles I hear Nate’s excited voice: “They have the Micralite!”
Back in September
when we endured the hell that is Babies R Us, Nate spotted a fellow customer pushing this stroller. Nate was in love—and the stroller man could tell he was smitten.
“I saw you checking out my stroller,” he says. A 20-minute conversation ensues about the glory that is the Microlite. It’s light! Inflatable tires! So easy to fold! It stands upright when shut! It has a one-bar push thing! The catch: It was only available in the UK. Nate then goes home, Googles the hell out of the stroller and actually suggests going to London
to pick one up. Naturally, I ignored him.
Cut to yesterday. Nate’s giddy opening and closing this thing; picking it up; rolling it around. “It’s too expensive,” I say. “It’s like half the price of the Bugaboo,” he says. “But we registered for a Combi.”
We open and close and open and close it. There’s one left. The rest sold out in a week. It is
a cool stroller. The tires are awesome. We’ve spent too much money on less useful things.
So, yeah, we bought a stroller.
Not a minute after exiting the store, a man stops Nate: “Is that the Micralite?!”