I was taking advantage of cutiest-tootiest's nap time a couple of days ago and decided to do a little shopping for the imminent arrival. I went to a Store called Crib and Teen City. Not the most creative of names, in fact a little odd, if you ask me, but it does imply that there will be lots of cribs and the like inside. It's in a weird little building with one other store that's situated a little too close to the street, so it's awkward to get into their driveway. I had to circle back once to figure it all out. I went inside and a salesman approached with the usual, "May I help you?"

"Do you carry bassinets or something like that, smaller than a crib?"

Blank stare. "We have a lot of cribs, why do you need a bassinet?"

A little put off by his assumptive air, I replied "I already have a crib, which is now a toddler bed, so I need something for this one," pointing to my red-clad protruding belly.

"Oh," he said, "the only thing like that is a changing table." I wonder if this man has been taking too much medication. "Maybe you need some other furniture for the room?"

I felt a little badly for the guy. I used to work in retail and I know what a complete horror show it is, especially when there's no customers. His face and awkward transition tell me he is desperate to sell me something. Anything. "Do you have low bookcases, the kind where she can reach everything?" I offer, nodding towards the sleepyhead.

"No, just those kind," he says, pointing to a very tall, thin shelving unit. "You can try that unfinished wood store down the street. Or anywhere, really."

"Okay," I say, with my characteristically uncomfortable laugh. "Sorry you don't have the bassinets. Thanks, anyway."

His face drops a little and he leans on the railing next to him. "Okay, thanks for stopping by."

I went outside and noticed that the neighboring strip mall is connected to this parking lot, so I decided to take a stroll over there. There's a swimwear shop--nope, a discount drug store--maybe later, a beauty salon for the well-heeled older lady, a kitchen remodeling shop and a couple of restaurants. Food. Yes, food is good. The Italian place had a $7.95 lunch special, so I decided to try it.

Upon entering a maze of doors, I am confused by the sheer amount of mirror images reflecting back at me. I know they like mirrors in these old-fashioned places, but this was actually impressive in a garish sort of way. An entire wall was covered in mirror glass with faux columns separating it into sections. It was so clean and well-placed in terms of lighting that it really did make the restaurant appear twice the size. I had to check the faces seated near me and then their reflections in the mirror to confirm that it wasn't.

They seated me in the back since the size of my belly and the presence of my stroller might scare away the geriatric regulars. Did you know that pregnant is embarazado in Spanish? Maybe Italian too, ay? Anyway, so I was there in the back enjoying a very simple, but fresh and nice capellini pomodoro and to my left I see a very imposing figure perusing the menu. They seem to know him at this place. Without being too conspicuous, I let me eyes wander bottom to top and I am stunned by his face. Nevermind that the man is about 6'10" tall and is dressed not unlike the Brawny man, it was his face!
His face was the closest human replica of the comic book drawings of Superman that I've ever seen. Superman lives in Scarsdale! Really, I didn't know people could look that architectural. He looked like the ideal worker that they used to draw in the 30's. Like Atlas. Almost like an ox, actually. I had to stop myself from staring. I wanted to take a picture, just a little snap with my cell phone or something.

But then I thought this poor guy (they called him Brian, I think) probably has been plagued by hero-worshippers his whole life. Maybe even asked to save somebody. I could see by his rough hands, style of dress and the gigantic portion of pasta he was finishing that this man was working hard to make his way. When his bill came and I saw the way he spread out the change on his hand to count it methodically and individually, I realized that Superman always relied on instinct and super brawn. In real life, that and a quarter get you a phone call.