“Cheap, cheap, cheap, cheap!” my father-in-law once tweeted like a bird while laughing at my husband’s penny-pinching ways.
Just how cheap IS Mr. Candy, you may ask?
Mr. Candy is so cheap, he orders his sodas without ice to maximize his drink investment.
Mr. Candy is so cheap, he uses Scotch Tape to hold his six-year-old Blackberry together — even though he’s a partner at one of the top strategy consulting firms in the world.
Mr. Candy is so cheap, he positions the holes in his socks as “air vents.”
As soon as Mr. Candy saw Baby Girl on that ultrasound, however, a miracle happened: his fraying wallet opened. Yes, the AmEx heavens parted and the overpriced baby boutiques on Montana Avenue knowingly smiled down on us. NOTHING is too good for for our daughter, according to my hubby. A baby Blackberry? It’s hers! Diamond-encrusted binky? Hell yeah, Diddy’s babies ain’t got nothin’ on our daughter!
We shopped for nursery furniture last weekend, and Mr. Candy immediately fell under the spell of the Mother of All Cribs called — what else? — the “Park Avenue,” powerless to resist her appealing curves and alluring base mouldings.
“A crib fit for a princess,” the beaming daddy-to-be declared.
I stood there in shock as my husband lovingly stroked the crib without even glancing at the price tag once. Who IS this man, I wondered, and what has he done with my husband who’s so cheap, he’ll only buy a t-shirt at Target if it’s on clearance?!
And my hubby wasn’t the only spellbound parent in that store. Far from it. Intricately carved armoires and thousand-dollar strollers were flying out the door, recession be damned. In the midst of my bemusement, one thing became abundantly clear:
I MUST INVEST IN BABY STOCKS!