I can’t stop thinking about poussettes.

That sounds really dirty, doesn’t it?

Well, it’s not. It’s just sad. I’ve been inexcusably bad at updating the old blog and teaching you vocab over the past 2 weeks, and I have nothing to blame other than uncharacteristically spectacular weather and a complete obsession with baby strollers.

Now, I hate the fact that my existence has been overtaken by poussette-mania. I wanted to be able to nonchalantly pick out the first thing on wheels that came my way. But there are so many choices! And so many factors to consider! Like will it fit in my elevator? (Nope.) Does it have a bassinet attachment so le bébé can sleep in it? (Maybe.) Will it cost more than a used car? (Probably.)

And if I ever want to leave my apartment again, it will have to be a sturdy cobblestone-proof version that’s still light enough to haul up 3 flights of stairs and maneuver on the bus. Bright colors might also make it easier for strangers to spot me stranded at the top of the metro stairs, waiting for help carrying that sucker down to the platform.

So I’ve thrown all former coolness and street cred to the wind, and devoted disgusting amounts of time to stroller gazing. I hate myself. Bébé, you better be reallllly cute or funny or something to make it all worth it.