The corporate geniuses in Minneapolis are taking over the young, impressionable mind of my son.
Yesterday at daycare there was a pink tube of butt creme lying on the changing table with an innocent PINK and white bulls eye on it. The Mayor pointed and said,
"That's from Target."I looked at him and blinked in amazement. Why, yes. Yes it is.
Later, he saw a generic bottle of hand soap in the bathroom with a small, unassuming NAVY and white bullseye on it. Again, he identified it's origin.
I began to worry. (Or at least to think about adding worrying to my "to do" list.)
Still later The Mayor asked me where I had put his sippy cup and when I told him that I put it in the shopping bag on the floor of the car, he said, "In the Target bag?"
The Mayor is two.
I don't even mean two and a half or anything. He JUST TURNED two.
He has achieved corporate logo recognition.
How scary is that?
I can hear the Champagne glasses clinking all the way from Minnesota.
I knew that we were praying at the altar of the bulls eye too much when MONTHS ago the security guard looked at Rooster and said, "Aw, she's growing up so fast." What? Do we know you? Huh?
No. We do not know her.
We just come to the bulls eye palace EVERY weekend.
In fact I dropped $100 there yesterday AND the day before that. Most of the first $100 was the insanely priced BABY FORMULA!!!
Can I just say that I am SO HAPPY to only have six more weeks to buy baby formula? The price of formula is a serious downside to having your boobs turn into the Sahara desert on your child's six month birthday. But alas, Rooster is no camel and so the great formula wallet wounding began. I could more cheaply keep her stocked up on street drugs.
"Hey man, can I score some of that E*?"All street drug jokes aside, (heh) Enfamil must really be gaining a street value -- my local grocery store has to keep it locked up and you have to REQUEST a can because too many people steal it. The implications here are just too deep and serious for a blog focused on
*Street name for Enfamil Lipil.
butts and poo joys to contemplate.
I must confess that as shocked and mortified as I am about how much of our family income goes there and that my son has digested and wholly embraced that the bulls eye logo in any color variation MEANS Target, I doubt it will shake my status as a devotee.
First, the bulls eye is the U.S. capital of The Good T-Shirts. No one can argue.
Second, I am convinced that the great people from Minnesota mark all of their clothes with a sizing number that is actually a size SMALLER than the true size of the article so that The Honorable, Lady Flabina can THINK she is thinner than she is and LOVE the whole state of Minnesota for it.
Just yesterday (see additional $100 NOT spent on baby formula) I bought four skirts SIMPLY because the size on the tag was so ridiculously LOW and so out of touch with the reality of my true size.
Talk about motivation!
CHA-CHING! Here is my money. Let me give it all to you bulls eye people because I BELIEVE!!!
Bless you Oh Glorious Bulls Eye Leaders!
(Ignore the person in the photo below!)