There is little more chaotic in this world than IKEA on a Sunday morning. There is no way in hell that many people need DIY coffee tables all at once. The only reasonable explanation is that 82% of them are lost as heck and have probably been there since last month. The place is a gong show, and unless you absolutely cannot live without a rickety bookshelf, I’d recommend avoiding it at all costs…particularly on weekends….and especially with a toddler in tow.
Now obviously, I can’t take my own advice; otherwise this post wouldn’t exist. If you’re anything like me, please, at the very least, try to remember the following (I speak from experience):
Survival 101: IKEA With a Toddler
1. Bring High Heels- Not for you. For the hellion. Every IKEA has a children’s play area, and I’m not referencing the mattress section, either; this is a legitimate spot to drop your kid off while you escape into the madness for a few hours. They have a height requirement of 94cm, so if your little one is still vertically challenged, you’ll need to fake it. Once they remove the shoes and catch onto you, you’ll be miles away, lost in the customisable wardrobe section, and they’ll never find you. Picking your child up when you’re done is completely optional.
2. Bring Back-Up- If releasing your precious one into the germ-infested ball pit makes you cringe, make sure you’ve got at least 9 other people with you. You’ll need all the manpower you can accumulate to wrangle a toddler in IKEA. Wear matching clown wigs, so you’ll be easily recognizable when you unavoidably get lost among the half-trillion other idiots who also chose to go on a weekend.
3. Plan Ahead- Don’t waste your time mapping the place out beforehand and going in with a game plan. It won’t work anyway. What I mean is make sure your tot has napped prior to getting there. Nothing, and I mean nothing is worse than a tired, cranky kid when you’re stuck in that shit show of a maze. Trust me.
4. Pack Provisions- For the love of all that is holy, don’t forget the snacks! Sure, the meatballs are only 99¢, but by the time you’ve managed to find the damn restaurant, your kid will be in full self-destruct mode, and you’ll be half-bald from ripping your hair out, trying not to throttle the demon….though the demo kitchen cupboards are probably roomy enough to hide the evidence….
Take it from me, it’s much easier to remain home, bored out of your anus, staring at the eighteen loads of laundry you probably should have done last Thursday, than to take on those Swiss a-holes.