Welcome to our world

"Welcome to our world. Welcome to our world. Welcome to our world of toys," blasts relentlessly from mysteriously placed speakers, making it sound as if the eerie, childlike singing is coming from within my own head. Yet it cannot drown out the tortured cries of "But I waaaant it!! I neeeeed it,Moncler Sale!!" that also fill the air. And this is only the stuffed-animal floor.
Upstairs is total chaos; children are firing ray guns, throwing slime, sports equipment, and siblings. I look around at parents who share my "let's just get through this" expression and employees trying to make it to lunch without sustaining serious bodily injury. I slither to Sesame Street Corner where a little girl of about three has prostrated herself on the floor and is sobbing for injustice everywhere.
"Maybe Santa will bring you one, Sally."
"NoooOOOoooOOOOoooOOOooooooooOOOoooooOOOO!" she howls.
"Can I help you?" asks a salesgirl wearing a red shirt and glazed smile.
"I'm looking for a Grover night-light."
"Oh, I think we sold out of Grover." The last half hour of standing in line says you didn't. "Let's take a look." Yes, let's.
We go to the night-light section where we are faced with an entire wall of Grover. "Yeah, sorry, those went fast," she says, shaking her head as she begins to wander off.
"Yeah, this is one," I say, holding it up.
"Oh, is he the blue guy?" Yes, he's the blue guy. (Don't even get me started! No one at Barnes and Noble Junior had even heard of Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile. Come on, you work in a children's bookstore, it's not like I'm asking for Hustler.)
I take my place in line for gift wrap and use the opportunity to practice my transcendental meditation amid more children wracked with sobs,http://www.cheapnorthfacedownjacket.com/.
On Monday morning Mrs. X pops her head into the kitchen while I'm cutting fruit. "Nanny, I need you to run an errand for me. I went to Saks to pick up the gifts for our help and, like a ninny, I forgot the bonus checks. So I've put handbags on hold and I'd like you to make sure that each check is put inside the right bag. Now, I've written it all down and the name of each person is on the outside of each envelope. Justine gets the Gucci shoulder bag, Mrs. Butters gets the Coach tote, housekeeper gets the LeSportsac and the Herve Chapeliers are for the piano and the French teachers. Make sure they gift-wrap everything and then just come home in a cab."
"No problem," I say, excitedly estimating where I fit in between Gucci and LeSportsac.
Tuesday afternoon Grayer has Allison over, an adorable Chinese girl from his class who will proudly tell anyone who asks, "I have two daddies!"
"Hello, Nanny," she always says, curtsying. "How's school? Love your shoes,http://www.moncleroutletonlinestore.com/." She just kills me.
The phone rings as I'm rinsing out their hot carob mugs. "Hello?" I say, hanging the towel neatly on the oven door.
"Nanny?" I hear a tentative whisper.
"Yes," I whisper back, because one does.
"It's Justine, from Mr,adidas shoes for girls. X's office. I'm so glad I got you. Can you do me a favor?"
"Sure," I whisper.
"Mr. X asked me to go pick out some things for Mrs. X and I don't know her size or what designer she likes, or the colors." She sounds genuinely panicked.