The colors. MY GOD. All the colors.

“Hey Jerry, you ok? You look a little tweaked out.”

OHMYGODMARCIALONGTIMENOSEEHOW’REBOBANDTHEKIDS?

“Whoa, Jerry. Why are you talking so fast … and screaming at the top of your lungs?

AMI?GUESSIDIDN’TREALLYNOTICEBUTNOWTHATYOUMENTIONITI... AMFEELINGALITTLEFUNNY.

“Jerry, don’t take this the wrong way but, are you ON something? Because if you are, I think maybe we should call 911.”

WHAT?OFCOURSENOT!IWASJUSTSIT …

“I’m having a real tough time understanding you, Jerry. Why don’t you stop, take a deep breath and then try talking a little slower, ok?”

:::INHALE:::EXHALE::: Ok, so like I was saying … I’ve just been sitting here with Lucy while she plays with her Infantino Dancy Antsy.

“Oh, I see now. Well that explains it. I think you’re just a little over-stimulated, Jerry. With all those colors, patterns and textures like the clacker rings, teethers, crinkly antennae and shiny peek-a-boo mirror, it’s completely understandable.”

Well how come it doesn’t affect her the same way?

“Because she’s a baby, Jerry. Babies are little sponges that just suck up everything that’s going on around them, and their developing minds categorize it all into engaging learning experiences. But for adults, this toy is the equivalent of having an acid flashback in the middle of a European discotheque.”

Speaking of dancing and music, check out what happens when you squeeze its foot …

“NO JERRY! DON’T!!!”

THE ANTS! THEY’RE EVERYWHERE! GET EM OFF ME! GET EM OFF ME!

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