Past Pottery Barn, On The Right

She pulled up next to me in her diesel Mercedes with the bad brakes and confirmed it: I've become someone who looks like she knows where Build-A-Bear is. "Where's Build-A-Bear?" she pressed, without even so much as a good morning. And mind you this was while the stroller and baby were still well concealed in my car.

Thing is: I knew. Made having the kid at the Genius Bar dispatch my phone-syncing glitch in about two seconds somehow even more humiliating.