Morjes!

Welcome to my blog. I write about fitting in, sticking out, and missing the motherland as a serial foreigner.

Nail polish helmet

We decided it was time for Miriam to be wearing a bike helmet on our bike rides, even though she rides in the trailer. We usually just take her on the bikes/pedestrians-only river path, but every once in a while we ride to campus on city streets. City streets with a wide bike lane, yes, but city streets nonetheless. So we thought a helmet was a good idea.

I had been building up a Target list for a while, so yesterday, when we finally got around to going there, we decided to look at helmets, too.

Imagine my dismay when I saw that brandification has apparently taken over the children's bicycle helmet market as well. There were Disney Princess helmets, Thomas the Train helmets, Dora helmets, Diego helmets, etc. All of them cost more than twice as much as the "ghetto-brand," plain-colored, purely functional helmet hidden in the middle of the array.

Then, to my surprise, Miriam bypassed all of the dazzling branded helmets, pointed right at the plain one, and said, "Look mama, nail polish helmet!" And that was the one she wanted.

Here it is:


I'm not exactly sure where the nail polish connection comes in, although the color is a little bit glossy. But I have to admit I was very pleased with her choice.

After all that, we decided she couldn't wear the helmet in the bike trailer anyway. It is so huge (a fault of all bike helmets, not just the nail polish one) that it tips her head too far forward when she is sitting against the seat in the trailer. Oh well. At least we tried.

Beat my score

Public humiliation at the post office