With Charlotte dropped off at a 7-hour play date (thank you M’s mom!), Scott and I decided to risk all chance of enjoying a Sunday by taking our 3-year-old to Ikea.
Of COURSE one of the 8 million modular pieces for the chest of drawers was out of stock.
So I bought a ton of collapsible mesh cubes and a kitchen timer that apparently Campbell tossed into that parachute of a shopping bag. (Scott and I to each other: “I thought YOU wanted that.”)
We didn’t need light bulbs this time, which is a good thing because I can’t ever seem to buy the right ones. Can we as a nation campaign for more layman-type terms in lightbulb descriptions? R14 means NOTHING to me.
Anyway, Ikea. It’s inevitable. Keep expectations low and be thankful that your kid will never be the only one causing a scene.
How does Ikea affect YOU?