My father grew up in New Jersey so big shopping malls aren't a big deal to him aside from being used as geographical markers to approximate how far along the Turnpike you live.
My mother, however, loves shopping malls, especially in America. Most likely because she's still a teenager (or as my father says, barely legal).
Living in New York City, you don't really get the mall experience of seeing grown women wearing expensive sweatpants and furry boots (women dressing like girls), teenagers with luxury designer handbags (girls dressing like women) or out of shape men wearing athletic wind pants.
But the trip to the mall wasn't too bad. I got to see a lot of other babies everywhere and check out their sweet rides like the Uppababy or the Stokke. I'm not into that stuff myself, but I do appreciate a nice Bugaboo stroller when I see one.
Speaking of rides, my dear father, in his infinite wisdom, decided to try the baby bjorn again that day. He thought it would help us bond given we never really had a chance to connect since I was born. He even got me a pair of baby sunglasses as an opening gesture. But as you can see below, I was not amused.
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