It’s the night before Valentine, and I’m taping miniature plastic Pteranodons to crudely cut, peace sign adorned love notes at bedtime. We are a well-oiled assembly line, my daughter and I. She writes. I tape. From the assortment of Jurassic lovebirds, she carefully picks out dinosaurs to match her classmates’ personalities. I'm not sure how I’d feel about being paired with a lambeosaurus. The hooting-crested guy is such a "lame-o" on PBS’s Dinosaur Train. Only a handful of buddies get the T.rex taped to their name-bearing card. Must be special! I love those little glimpses into my daughter’s sandbox, friendship dynamics.

Anyway, I’m slightly peeved at having to tape and double tape the triceratops. He’s on the heavy side. Why am I doing this when we should be brushing teeth and get ready for bed? Ah, right, because a little foresight is simply lost on me and usually ends with an expired CVS coupon in my purse. If I may, I’d also like to throw my daughter’s teacher under the bus for a moment. It can’t possibly all be my fault, right? Although I’m also the one to fight for front-row access to Party City’s crummy backroom storage come late October, when the flock of short-tempered Halloween procrastinators like me overwhelms the kids who work there.

So with a 30-minute window to shop for Valentines cards before dinner is ready, the countdown is on. My husband is a precision chef, so he gives us the green light to head out quickly for the cards, and we are off! As life would have it, purchasing a crowd-pleasing, seasonal anything is ill-fated when you head out after the retailers have already given up on that season.

My daughter wants cards of the Monster High variety.

How hard can it be?

Let me tell you.

Unless you bought them right after Christmas, you’d better settle for Disney’s Cars or princess posse. Seriously?

Okay, let’s try Target’s seasonal goodies corner in the back and try to bypass: (a) Starbucks, (b) super-cute spring collection plates, (c) deal on shampoos, and (d) cool triceratops toys. Even if you think you’ve got the merchandisers’ tricks all figured out and take the other loop around the store to get to the back, you’ll still be wooed by all the new DVDs, the super-fun spring sandals, and the oh-so-sweet straw handbags that remind you of your own childhood. Darn you, Target designers.

Well, once in the back of the store, we can’t find a single pink heart beyond the rows of Easter bunnies. But wait, there it is! A single box of cards left alone among the cleared shelves: Disney’s Cars and princesses.

Off we go to another store, and then another, and then to Giants, because Giants has, at the very least, yummy pastries that would be a perfect closure for the dinner Dad is preparing at home, and that’s about to be done.

We find the entire Valentine merchandise cleared off the shelves. There are plenty of Easter eggs though.  There’s an abandoned shopping cart full of Valentine stuff in the back. Taking advantage of the clerk’s potty/coffee break, we dive right in and yank merchandise out of the cart.  Bingo – the Valentine cards are at the bottom. It seems like there’s a little love going around after all.

Alas! There’s the car and tiara assortment. We also find puppies with disturbingly large eyes. Ugh. We are outta here.

On our last stop at the local pharmacy, we hit the jackpot and find peace-sign cards. To tell you the truth, we would have settled for things with four wheels, blue ball gowns, and puppies by now, but we lucked out.

Back at home, my husband greets us at the door, slotted spoon in hand.

“What took you so long?”

“Ugh.”

“What’d you get?”

“A bag of dinosaurs and peace signs.” I tell him. (And a hissy fit as I briefly entertained the idea of a retail boycott, but I hold that one back.)

So we have spaghetti, and afterwards, write the cards, tape the dinosaurs, and head to bed.

Once upstairs, my daughter reads a book to her little brother. As my little guy snuggles up to her, he hugs his hippo and wishes him a happy " Valentime," and I want to eat them both.

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