‘Boooobeeeee! Boooobeeeee!’ he yelled with his head thrown back and a maniacal grin on his face. ‘Boooobeeee!’ This was at approximately the halfway point in our first IKEA shopping excursion. And to be clear, this was almost-two-year-old Eli, not his father. At this point I’d completely lost my sense of humour. With the little one demanding a boob and not taking no for an answer, and the big one crying because I wouldn’t let her choose a king-size sleigh bed and a cot for her bedroom, I was ready to throw in the grey towels I’d gathered and order an Uber. A note on that.
We do not have a car in Canada. We cannot buy a car until we have insurance. We can’t get insurance until one of us has an Ontario driver’s license. So until we can write the driver’s test, pass the actual driving test and get insurance, and buy a car, we’re dependent on Uber. Or walking to Walmart to buy groceries (this deserves a whole other post).
With Eli’s skinny little arm thrust far down my shirt, his war cry of boooobeeee ringing out through the mazes of hell, I hunted down a minion in yellow and blue. The directions to the ‘nursery’ sounded something like this: ‘Ya wanna know where the nursery is? Okay. Right. Go down there and turn right. Walk past the beds on the left and turn right then turn left. At the workstations turn left, then left and left again and follow the arrows right. That should take you right to the front entrance past the checkout with the nursery on the right.’ Somehow we found the nursery. Despite the directions! Eli was reunited with booooobbbeeee and, when he was done, danced a little jig to the music being played thoughtfully through the speakers.
Following this interesting little detour, our posse regrouped at the beds and we began the task we’d set out to accomplish approximately 90 minutes before: finding beds and trying out mattresses that we could order and have delivered ready for our first night in our brand new, empty house.
When we left Dante’s nine circles of hell (thanks for the reference, Ian Burt) it was snowing. But we left armed with veggie ‘meatballs’, a totally useless and unnecessary cushion my eldest decided she couldn’t live without, and some towels. So it wasn’t a complete bust.