Nesting behavior has always baffled me. So I was more than a little frightened when I returned home from a business trip to find my wife had recovered her car seats and the den furniture in blue fleece and installed matching carpet in both.

“Honey,” I asked cautiously, “do you know something I don’t?”

“We’re having a boy,” she smiled.

“I thought the ultra sound was scheduled for next month?” I asked.

“I don’t need an ultrasound to know my baby,” she replied, both hands on her stomach. She glided to the kitchen table and passed me a stack of product brochures. “I’ve picked out a few things we need,” she explained.

The top sheet announced “the most exciting advance in stroller technology since rubber wheels” by taking out a 36 month note. As she explained it to me the manufacturers financing was too good to pass up, “no interest for 36 months and a credit worth up to $500 dollars, on a minimum order of $5000 at BabyConsumption.com.

Foolishly, I ignored my father in law who stood just out of Elaine’s peripheral vision frantically repeating the universal hand gesture for cutting one’s own throat.  “You know, we have saved enough to pay cash for most of the strollers on the market,” I offered, asserting my paternal rationality rights.

Elaine turned on me with a fury I had never seen before. Her eyes narrowed and her nails curled into the warrior stance of a mother bear. “If you think I will sacrifice the safety of my child for your self-serving greed……” She was struck with such a violent tremor that I briefly contemplated dialing 911 or at least administering aspirin as a prophylactic against brain clotting. My mother in law, who stands five foot even at 105 pounds, threw me to the ground with a flick of her forearm as she rushed to her daughter’s side. My father in law began displaying the International Geophysical Society’s hand signal for Get Clear: Immediate Volcanic Eruption.

Foolishly confident that a rational discussion could prevail, I opened volume 23 of Worried Mother, the Definitive Product Guide. I approached her warily. If you recall I lead eco-expeditions for a living and have extensive training regarding encounters with unfamiliar species.

“What about this model? Obsessed Parent gave it their best value rating and it retails for only twenty three hundred dollars.” I was nearly overcome with cognitive dissidence.

“What about my health?” she demanded. “Why it doesn’t have a National Weather Service console, the BabyDown^TM alarm system or even a basic hydraulic lift. Do you realize how many mothers get permanent debilitating lower back injuries and have to depend on Nannies the rest of their lives instead of the deep satisfaction and bonding of changing diapers themselves?”

I was completely unaware of this health risk but I did have a vague sense of the going rate for nannies. “Do you think we need the Kevlar option?” I asked vainly. When I saw the look on her face I ran for the car.

I rushed to the store and happily signed away our next 3 year’s disposable income. After all, how many fathers can guarantee their sons are safe from armor piercing rounds?