Somewhere in America, a car is parked in the driveway tonight. It's regular space has been usurped for months now by several dozen cases of [reams of?] CD jewelbox-sized, crinkly plastic-lined fleece hankies known as Baby Paper. ["Known" may be a bit aspirational at this point.] They're like buying that Lamaze sensory cube with the crinkly flap, only minus the cube part.
And if the inventor of Baby Paper can just sell one sheet to just half of all the babies born in the US each year...lessee, 2 million sheets, $2.50 wholesale, $2.35 gross margin...I don't know, I was never good at math. But it's probably enough to add on that third garage.
This one my bemused mom bought for me to write about is just gravy.