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subscribed to the rule, “Whatever you lack in skill, make up for in silly accessories.”
    â€œHow’s your tennis game?”
    â€œNot great, but I have a racket the size of an outdoor grill, the exact same sneakers as Agassi, and a hat with a tiny solar-powered fan that keeps me very cool.”
    I figure if they went to the trouble of manufacturing it, there’s probably a very good reason. And I’d be crazy not to get one.
    Especially where your child is concerned. Even if the kid is still in the womb, you want to send the message that every conceivable comfort will be provided.
    Sadly, I had no idea what I was up against. There’s an infinite number of store chains, all with cutesy names that aim to convey both the smallness of babies and the enormity of their selection: “Tot Town,” “Teeny World,” “Infant Hemisphere,” “All That’s Small,” “Papoose Palace,” “Mess-O-Whipper Snappers.” And they really are gigantic. The first time my bride and I ventured into one of these retail monsters, I got literally dizzy. Seriously, I had to lie down. The sheer size of these places is staggering. Three miles long, eight hundred aisles, each a building-and-a-half high—an unfathomable array of choices.
    As we wandered down the first few miles of this store, we tried to familiarize ourselves with the inventory.
    â€œLook at this—a diaper genie . . .”
    â€œIf you rub it and ask it to clean up the diapers, it has to do it?”
    â€œI think so . . .”
    â€œOkay . . . good . . . What’s this—‘Four-in-one car seat’?”
    â€œIt’s a car seat, but the seat comes out and you carry the baby in the bucket part. So it’s like a carrier, too.”
    â€œSo, how is that ‘four-in-one’?”
    â€œBecause you can also put it on the thing with wheels, and push the baby in the seat.”
    â€œOkay, so that’s three. ”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat’s only ‘ Three -in-one.’ ”
    â€œYeah . . . so?”
    â€œIt says ‘ four. ’ ”
    â€œYeah . . . well, maybe they counted wrong.”
    We perused the next aisle.
    â€œWhy would you need a crib and a cradle?”
    â€œThe cradle is for the beginning, and then they move on to the crib.”
    It was becoming clear that my wife was further into the “Preparing Your Baby’s Room” chapter than I was. I still had questions.
    â€œHow long do they sleep in the cradle?”
    â€œI don’t know . . . a few months?”
    â€œAnd then what?”
    â€œCrib.”
    â€œThey don’t go back to the cradle?”
    â€œWhy would they go back to the cradle?”
    â€œI don’t know . . . because we have it. It seems like a shame to get a whole cradle if they’re only going use it for an hour and a half . . .”
    â€œMaybe we don’t need the cradle.”
    â€œThat’s all I’m saying.”
    In addition to cribs and cradles, you also have to consider playpens, which at first impression struck me as no more than brightly colored, miniature jails. Is this really how we want to treat a brand-new person? Poor thing spends nine months cooped up in the womb, and first thing we do is toss him in a cage like a zoo animal. At least zoo animals get shrubbery and little ponds and schoolchildren tossing them peanuts.
    You can also, evidently, purchase a porta-crib —the beauty of which is that no matter where you may travel, your newborn gets to stare at the same four nylon walls.
    â€œOkay, Junior, we’re going over to visit the Millers, who have a beautiful house filled with lovely antiques and a stunning view of the mountains. But it doesn’t really matter, because to you, it’ll look just like every other place—a small purple rectangle.”
    (This, of course, assumes you can assemble