Dyke Two's dirty little secret...

So, we are the proud owners of a Bugaboo Frog stroller. I am known as "the mother with THAT stroller" among our mommy-friends. I am kind of embarrassed by our stroller: conspicuous consumption is not really my style, but it was a gift from my doting and adoring brother, a lawyer in Westchester County. So, when people approach us and ask about the stroller (which happens at least once a week, since Bugaboo sightings are unusual here in the People's Republic of Smallcity) I always preface it with, "Well, it was a gift. We would never spend this much money on a stroller..."

Sunday, a middle aged White man, his five year old son and their two purebred dogs approached us while we were leaving my favorite coffee shop. "My wife is pregnant. We're thinking of getting a Bugaboo. What do you think of it?'

I quickly jumped in with my usual disclaimer, "It was a gift. We like it, but if we were spending that much money on a stroller, we probably would have gotten a phil and ted or something that is a little more versatile since this isn't really great for grass and is kind of a pain to get in and out of the car."

We talked for a few more minutes, the man pushed it up and down the sidewalk (Bigfella was in Dyke Two's arms, so don't worry about our sanity letting some random man push our son) and thanked us for the input.

After he walked away, Dyke Two said to me, "You don't need to always tell people the stroller was a gift." I looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You can let them think we bought the stroller ourselves."

Ahhh. There's her secret motivation. I smiled at her and said, "Honey, you just want that white man to think you have more money than he has!"

Dyke Two just grinned and put the seat of the stroller into the backend of the car.