In other words, after years of men who won't make commitments and can't be depended on, a son becomes a man substitute. "Oh, yeah," said Janice. "You can't trust men. You can't trust anyone who isn't your blood.
"My husband is really a second-class citizen," she said. "I used to be pretty crazy about him, but then the baby came along. Now, if he's like, 'Could you please get me a Diet Coke? I tell him to buzz off."
Meanwhile, a small, wary crowd had gathered in the middle of the loft. Wobbling a bit was a tiny girl wearing pink ballet slippers and a tutu. "Brooke insisted on wearing her ballet outfit today. Isn't it adorable?" said a tall, beaming woman. "When I tried to put pants on her, she started crying. She knew. She knew she had to wear her ballet outfit today so she could put on a performance, didn't she, pumpkin? Didn't
she, pumpkin?" The woman stooped, her hands clasped to her chest, her head cocked, and her face frozen in a large fake smile inches from the child's face. Then she began making odd gesturing motions.
"Blow a kiss. Blow a kiss," she said. The little girl, smiling fixedly, brought her little palm to her mouth and then whooshed out air between her hps. The mother screamed wildly.
"She curtseys, too," Amanda said with some derision to Carrie. "She does tricks. Her mother got Brooke on the cover of one of those baby magazines, and since then, she's gone nuts. Every time we call her, she's rushing Brooke off to a 'go-see. She's with a modeling agency. I mean, she's cute, but. ."
Just then, another mother walked by, holding the hand of a two— year-old boy. "Look, Garrick, table. Table, Garrick. Can you say table? What do we do at a table? Eat, Garrick. We eat at a table. Can you spell table? T-a-b-l-e. Garrick, rug. Garrick. R-u-g, rug, Garrick. .»
Amanda started making onion dip. "Excuse me," said Georgia, a woman in a checked suit. "Onion dip? Just be sure to keep it away from the kids. The salt and fat makes them nuts." This sentiment, however, did not prevent her from dipping her finger into the heinous concoction and sticking it in her mouth.
"Hey, have you guys checked out the Sutton Gym?" Georgia asked. "It's fabulous. You have to take Chester to the Sutton. It's like a David Barton gym for kids. Has he started to talk yet? If he has, maybe we could make a play date. Rosie is nearly one, but I want to start her on improving playdates.
"I also recommend the baby massage class at the 92nd Street Y. Very bonding. You're not still breast feeding, are you? I didn't think so." Georgia extracted another glop of onion dip. "Say, how's your nanny?"
"Fine," Amanda said, glancing at Packard.
"She's from Jamaica. We're lucky to have her," Packard said.
"Yeah, but are you sure she's taking good care of httle Chester?" Georgia asked.
"He seems fine to me," Packard said.
"Yes, but I mean, good care," Georgia said, looking at Amanda meaningfully, at which point Packard shpped away.
"You can't be too careful with these nannies," Georgia said, leaning in toward Amanda. "I went through eleven nannies. Finally, I got the spy camera."
"Spy camera?" Carrie asked.
Georgia looked at Carrie as if seeing her for the first time. "You don't have kids, do you? Anyway, I thought it was going to cost a fortune, but it doesn't. This friend of mine saw it on Oprah. A guy comes to your house and sets it up. You can watch your nanny for five hours. I called mine and said, 'What did you do today? She said, 'Oh, I took Jones to the park, then we played. It was all a he. She hadn't even left the house! All she did all day was watch TV and talk on the phone. She practically ignored Jones the whole day. I've got all my girlfriends doing it. One of them watched the nanny trying to dismantle the spy camera!"
"Wow," said Amanda.
I'm going to get sick, Carrie thought.