The Nose Knows

I'll admit, for as crunchy and leftist as I'd like to think I am, I sure do take too much pleasure in strolling through temples of consumption. Which is why Björn and I packed Lilly and Harper in the car this morning and took off to the Hessen Center, one of the more ghettoesque malls here in Frankfurt. Before that, we hit the pet-food store to get some dog food and so Björn could pick up where he left off with those asshole parrots they've got in there. Once we got to the mall, I accidentally flashed my bra to everyone while trying to get the sling tied, but I suppose all those old farts who were around to see it either didn't see it because of cataracts or were simply startled to see a relatively young woman wearing a bra that could have belonged to their wives. Harper was patient at this point. Since we wanted to hit the hardware store and the mega supermarket on the way home (yeah, we know how to roll), we decided to have some coffee at a cafe so I could treat Harper to some pressure fueling, which gave me one of my first opportunities to try out subtle boob revelation in public. So far, so good.

By the time we got to the supermarket, things were looking a little down on the baby side, but thanks to Björn's enthusiastic cart driving, he was able to calm Harper down. Until we got in the car, where the wailing began. Björn made every effort to hit all potholes and tram tracks, and Harper would stop crying until we had to stop at red lights. Finally, as we were stopped at one of those bad, bad lights, I got out of the car and crammed myself into the backseat, practically on top of Lilly, who now refuses to stay in her doggie paradise in the back of the car. Lilly took the opportunity to squeeze herself between the front seats and made herself comfortable on the passenger side. Have I ever mentioned that she's an asshole?

Harper was going absolutely ape shit, making me realize that if we were the kind of horrible parents who let her "cry it out," she would never stop because of exhaustion; she would simply keep wailing until her wee head exploded. The only pacifier we had with us had fallen on the mall floor, and my hands were covered in everything that all those before me in the supermarket had touched. Desperate to shove something in her mouth, I gave her the only thing I had that was relatively clean: my nose. And so I sat there, hunched over on the backseat of our car, receiving my punishment for being too stupid to pack an extra paci, for dragging my kid all over Frankfurt and for all other trespasses I have ever committed.