By Laura Snyder

I walked into a Toys R Us the other day and promptly got lost. I stumbled through Seasonal, made a left at Hanna Montana and ended up somewhere between large plastic yard toys and Rock em Sockem Robots. Somehow, I got all turned around and couldnt figure out which way the exit was. It’s a good thing there wasn’t a fire. I suppose that marketing majors would consider it a good plan to turn the whole store into a labyrinth of shelves filled with toys, so that customers are forced to spend hours perusing the merchandise while surreptitiously looking for the aisle that leads to the door. Maybe we’ll think of one more thing we need. They should have big boards that are labeled “Maps for Stupid People” on the end of every aisle with a big red dot labeled “You are Here.” “Well, of course, I’m here. Where else would I be? It was easy to spot the boy’s section. It was black, red and yellow; the colors of a poisonous insect. There you would find everything from remote-control cars to monster-robot-mutant-cyborg people that would be kind of scary if they weren’t made of plastic. Where is that exit? And where is a sales clerk when you need one? Even if I found a guy with a giraffe imprinted on his chest, would I really have the courage to ask him how the heck to get out of this cursed store? I swear if I saw the slightest smirk, I might just have to hit him over the head with this Easy-Bake Oven! Wow! They still make these things? I haven’t seen an Easy-Bake Oven since I was a kid. Who’d have thought that cooking with light bulbs would become classic entertainment?

I must be in the girl’s section now. Everything has morphed into pink and white with sparkles. I never realized how long the Barbie aisle is. She was dressed in the costume of every musical ever made. She had accessories for every career opportunity a girl could think of and Ken?… well, Ken was over in the corner waxing her Malibu Beach Buggy. Then it happened. I turned a corner, I think, and wandered into baby doll hell. Suddenly, the dolls starting talking to me. They demanded things like, I want my “Ba-Ba.” “Mama!” one whined. I didn’t know if I heard it right because they all talked at once, but I swear I heard one say “Take me to your leader!” Then a group started bawling as I walked past. It was a lactating mother’s nightmare. Good God! I wasn’t lactating, but even I felt my breasts jerk as I listened to the roar of a million babies crying. As I walked, they started giggling in maniacal glee. It gave me a bit of an inferiority complex. Did I have toilet paper hanging out of my pants? Nope. No toilet paper. So what the heck were they laughing at? Then they clapped their little plastic hands and applauded me as I went by. They were possessed baby dolls! One said, “I see you!” The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. What kind of sicko would buy a doll that sounds like a stalker? Maybe it was playing peek-a-boo, but the first time my daughter heard, “I see you!” come out of the depths of her toy box, she would bolt out of her room, make a flying leap into my bed, burrow under my blankets and nothing I could say would make her come out. We’d have to burn the doll and exorcise her bedroom. Man, this aisle was creepy! I spotted a guy sporting a giraffe (on his shirt), grabbed hold of his lapels, and growled into his shocked face, “Get me out of this store!” I saw the smirk. It was there, underneath the cautious look of a guy who knows better than to provoke a lunatic. And yes, the baseball bats were within reach. (So, that’s the secret: You have to hang a right at the baseball bats!) But, I was just so grateful to be leaving that, rather than hit the guy, I almost kissed him. Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist, author & speaker. You can reach Laura at lsnyder@lauraonlife.com Or visit her website www.lauraonlife.com for more info.