Your Mother's Love Affair

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20 Weeks Old

Dear Myles,

The only thing your mother loves more than me, but less than you, is the consumerism paradise with a logo that's disguised as a bullseye but is, in reality, a hypnotic symbol that lures us there multiple times a week: Target. This isn’t my first time writing to you about this place.

This is photoshopped. I am not this jacked irl

Your mother's birthday was last week. She didn't want a party, dinner, or to go out to catch a movie. Aside from the hand mixer she asked for a while ago because she loves to bake, she wanted to go to—yup, you guessed it—Target. I am grateful Target is not a man; I wouldn't be able to compete.

Since your birth, we haven't been to many places, as traveling has become challenging. You are breastfed and require milk every 3 hours, or else we need to find a corner somewhere on Earth while I hold a blanket like a matador trying to shield something that really shouldn't have to be shielded from the world at all (shout out to patriarchy). You also don't really enjoy sitting in your car seat for more than 30 minutes. More than 30 minutes, we run the risk of an explosive diaper or an explosive tantrum. So, when we plan to go somewhere, it all comes down to asking, "Did you eat? Did you sleep? Did you poop?" - the holy trinity of raising an infant. Once those boxes are checked, we know we have some time before you remind us that you pay the mortgage, and your parents have a curfew.

Here is you - 30 minutes after being in a car seat

But as difficult as it is traveling with you, an almost 5-month-old, 3-hour-meal-dependent newborn who won't sit in his car seat for 30 minutes unless he's fed, pooped, slept, and eaten, you're never too difficult for your mother to say her favorite words that begin with "I want to go.." and "Let's go to..." - you already know the rest.

Over the course of writing this letter this past week, we have been to Target 5 times. I know I could easily stay behind with you or let her go alone to give her a much-needed break. But deep down, I know she wants us to go together as a family, and I want to make Mommy happy.

Plus, how can I resist going when the Target we visit regularly is right next to a Chick-Fil-A? That new pimento chicken sandwich drizzled in honey, and the lemonade made from the tears of angels just slaps. Clearly, we never go to Target on a Sunday.

Whenever we arrive at Target's doors, your mother's hair gets longer, her smile wider, and, I kid you not, she grows dimples. I have to ask her if her face hurts because she can't stop smiling. She's already beautiful, but I think the lighting settings in all the Targets just make her glow.

On our 5th visit to Target this past week.

Once we step inside and the automatic doors part like the Red Sea, she tells me to grab the cart. I remind her we only came for X. But as much as we try to, we start looking at Y, Z, and all the other vowels and consonants in the store, as if we're on one of those game shows where you have to fill the cart with as much stuff before the timer runs out - the sad part is this game show has no timer.

Your mother's love affair with Target is one I willingly consent to. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, I secretly love it here too, especially after having you. The Cat & Jack return policy, the fact that they'll take back any diaper box, the 5% off everything with the RedCard, and the fact they literally have everything you might need while you're juggling a ticking time bomb of a child in a half-reclined car seat, who, if not fed exactly on the third hour of the last feeding, will probably embarrass you - what's not to like? It's also the most cost-effective, well, sometimes, way to make your mother smile.

My deepest fear is that when you're old enough, you won't want a party at the zoo or at an ice cream shop. I fear you'll want to have a party at Target and have everyone dress in red polos and red khakis with name tags that say, "Hello my name is…."

Please hate Target as much as I pretend to.

Love, 

Daddy

And if you’re on Substack Notes, and enjoyed this letter, please hit that“Restack” button.

Let me know your thoughts:

1. How much do you think I paid someone on Reddit to photoshop my face onto that picture?

2. When’s the last time you went to Target? Is it even possible to buy just one thing?

3. Are there any places or activities that you secretly enjoy, even if you pretend not to?

4. If you could have a party for your next birthday, where would you have it? Odd places only.

5. How do you feel about shopping with your family?

6. Fill in the blank: No matter how tired you are, going to ______ makes you happy. Tell me why.

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Want more of Myles’ Letters?

• The most recent one is Cooking in the Bathroom

• Hear Myles Laugh or Cry in these two Thank You, Wifey and Be Like, Daddy

• Read why we decided to call Myles, Myles

• Read about Our first Father’s Day.