Elara laughed, her tension finally breaking. "Let's go home, Mark. I think we're as ready as we'll ever be to handle a tiny human who can't even hold his own head up."
"Then there’s the eco-warrior route," the woman said, gesturing to the and Coterie displays. "No chlorine, no fragrances, very soft. They’re like cashmere for butts. Great if your little one has sensitive skin, but they’ll cost you a latte a day."
"Okay," Elara whispered, leaning against the handle of the cart. "How hard can this be? It’s a bag for poop."
"Actually," a voice drifted from behind a stack of wipes. A seasoned-looking mother with a toddler hanging off her hip and a sleeping infant strapped to her chest emerged like a woodland sage. "It’s a containment system for your sanity."
They left the store, the trunk of the car filled with various "containment systems," ready for the messy, beautiful chaos waiting just a few weeks away.
"But," the woman continued, moving her finger to a red-and-white box. ". They have a little pocket in the back waistband. It’s a 'blowout guard.' It stops the… uh… 'up-the-back' situations." Elara shuddered. "Blowout guard. Added to the criteria."
As the woman wandered off, Elara and Mark stood in the silence of choice.