"Smaland" is a misnomer

New York City has a brand-spankin'-new Ikea. It was only a matter of time before we would load Sage and Thyme into the ol' automobile, blast the AC, and head down there on an ill-conceived outing that would last several hours more than any of us expected.

I'll just give you the highlights.

"Smaland," Ikea's child-friendly area that allows parents to shop in relative peace, is open only to children of a certain height, and children who don't poop their pants. They all but had a big, bright, cheerful, yellow-and-blue sign with the big red outstretched heart and arms that said, "Children who don't poop their pants and are old enough to be past the most annoying and dangerous mobile phase are welcome."

Moving on.....

We waited to speak to some kitchen guy for about ten minutes before realizing that he wasn't in fact an Ikea employee, but merely a private citizen wearing a yellow shirt.

While Ty tracked down an actual employee, I stayed with both boys, one of whom began lifting up my skirt and saying, "Poopy? Poopy?" Real loud.

You know how Ikea has those glass display cases where they show a machine repeatedly opening and closing, say, a drawer, to simulate wear and tear? Well, we performed such tests all on our own.

A strange man looked a split-second too long at my children, and nearly got a low-priced Scandinavian-designed kitchen implement shoved into his eyeball. DON'T MESS WITH MAMA.

In a shocking twist of fate, Sage and Thyme preferred the meatballs to the lingonberries. (Usually, they go for sweet.)

Mama earned herself a Daim cake, and absolutely refused to share. Sorry, boys; some things are sacred.

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Everybody (who still reads after my extended absences), please congratulate Mr. and Mrs. Lashes on their recent wedding!