I've Still Got It?

I popped into Borders this afternoon to pick up an Easter gift for my goddaughter Presley, aka Little Miss Prissly, aka Parsley. Also, having graduated from the What to Expect When You're Expecting stage to the Oh My God, How Do I Avoid Completely Screwing Up My Baby stage, I wanted to browse in the parenting section. Of course, I became completely overwhelmed and subsequently frozen (same reaction, by the way, as when I graduated from college, when I tried on a wedding veil for the first time, and when I first had to shop for maternity clothes). Anyway, I made my way to the front of the line, nabbed a magazine from the strategically-placed rack, and walked to the counter. "Hey," said the at-least-five-years-younger-than-me Borders employee in a tone that could only be described as flirtatious, "I don't see too many people in here reading the New Yorker. "Sure," I replied, weary from the combination of a four-month bout of sciatica, low blood sugar, and a few too many encounters with stupid, stupid men, "And how many of these do you sell?" as I slapped a copy of Consumer Reports for Baby Products," on the above-belly-height counter. And I have to admit that I giggled to myself, just a little bit, when I saw the light come on.