"WTF is a foot muff?"

You know the way people who after having one child decide they want another? I think I’ve worked out why.

It’s not because a child is a bundle of joy, and it’s made them gloriously happy; so much so that they want another in their household. It’s not because they want to give their current progeny a brother or sister so he/she doesn’t get lonely. It’s not even because they even really actually want another child.

No.

Not at all.

I’ve come to the conclusion, after traipsing round God knows how many baby shops, that the only reason to have more than one child is to get the best value for money for the extortionate prices that baby paraphernalia sells for.

Not to get ahead of myself here, but after this illuminating trip I’m currently planning on having approximately 18 children and they’ll all use the same buggy so as I get my money’s worth. Because if you just have the one child most of this stuff is literally only good for a year at most.

Take car seats for example. There are many many MANY varieties of car seat. Each one more amazing than the last. One’s the clip in kind, one’s the slide in kind, there’s one with super adjustable padded straps, there’s the one with a swivel base that looked like something you’d see on the Starship Enterprise, there’s another with a built in poo catching tray (there’s not, but I wouldn’t have been surprised). So many different shapes, sizes and designs, yet some of them have the audacity to be so ludicrously expensive yet say on the tag, 0-9 months. NINE MONTHS!

And then you’ve got all the extras that the salespeople all but insist you need. Not want. Not would be nice to have. Need.  Blankets? Fair enough. Toys that dangle from the handlebars? O...kay. A foot muff. What the fuck is a foot muff?

So if I’m spending this much on a seat and all the “optional” extras it better be ready to hold my (or anyone’s) ass for a lot longer than nine poxy months. And then when said child gets older and larger, you have to buy another seat to fit their expanding frame. Which is dearer still. And then the child has the audacity to outgrow that one as well.

Kids, eh?

I haven’t even got one yet and it’s costing me an arm and a leg.

And there are the actual sales staff themselves, who in my very limited experience with them have overtaken car salesmen as the Most Annoying Salespeople In The Universe. At least when car salesmen give you the hard sell on the all singing all dancing features of a car, you can politely refuse the special edition of the car of your choice; they’ll be annoyed but once you’ve definitively said ‘no’ there isn’t much else they can do. Baby stuff salespeople have leverage over you. Leverage in the shape of your future son or daughter. And no matter how much you tell them you don’t want the carry cot they can whip out the it’s-better-for-the-baby card and try their hardest to fucking guilt you into buying it. And you will, because you’re a new parent and you obviously want the best for your first child. They’ve got you by the balls, and they bloody know it. The bastards. It goes something like this:

- “Now, I know you say you don’t want the carry cot, but do you want me to show you it anyway?”

 - “No, no, you’re alright. We’re happy enough.”

 - “Are you sure? Because when you take into account the benefits of the carr…”

 - “Seriously mate, we don’t want one.”

 - “But this one is better for the baby’s posture and will protect from the rain, sun and will convert into a makeshift bomb shelter once the nuclear apocalypse comes.”

 - “Look, seriously, we don’t want the…wait, did you say nuclear apocalypse?”

 - *nods*

- “Hmmm, well I don’t want to be that parent whose baby isn’t prepared for inevitable nuclear holocaust. (pause) We’ll take the carrycot.”

Fuck. The fucker guilted me good.