Expectant parenthood is hard enough without thinking about stuff. Useless stuff, for the most part, but the kinda stuff stores insinuate is indispensable for the well-developed baby.

Take diaper wipes warmers, for example.

The ultimate in baby booty comfort, these electric devices keep those moist towlettes toasty and steamy, ready to do battle with that most despicable of opponents, infant excrement.

I look at diaper warmers and two words come to mind: Electrocution hazard. This is followed up by a single word: Counterproductive.

There is a theory (which I happen to think is pretty darn good) that young children get more and more interested in potty training as they realize that wet diapers have a way of feeling most uncomfortable. If a cold wipe helps to make the whole diaper experience less pleasant, well, that's a good thing in my book. The less mess that hits my hands, the better.

Wipes warmers are just the beginning. There are countless silly baby items out there. Just go to your neighborhood Target, home of generally sensible (the company is headquartered in Minnesota, after all) if somewhat trendy merchandise. Wander through the baby aisle. Designer pacifiers. Chenille receiving blankets with special washing instructions (think about it). A John Lennon baby bouncer that vibrates and plays "Imagine."

Ah, yes, the John Lennon Collection by Carter's. Allow me to quote from the official marketing spiel:

"He was a loving, hands-on father to his son. As a natural expression of his love for his child, Lennon created delightful animal figures and drawings to teach, amuse and entertain him."

Without getting into dangling modifiers and other grammatical issues, I have a couple of issues with that particular spin on John Lennon's fatherly touch. Julian just might have a little something to say about some of that as well (perhaps something along the lines of "he had two sons!"). But then, for the purposes of Carter's, Julian is not the "official" Lennon son. Not when Yoko Ono is the one who's doing the licensing.

Our choice of crib decor? "John Lennon Music" (there are three different Lennon ensembles), of course.

You must understand, this whole crib decorating thing is crazy. Crib themselves can go for upwards of a grand (we paid much less for a fine used model), but the sheets and accessories aren't much cheaper. There are Laura Ashley crib sets (starting at only $399!), DKNY all-black crib sets (for those stylish metropolitan babies), ultra-cheesy Disney and "classic" Pooh sets and the apparent crib champ, an insect-themed set called Whirligig.

All of these ensembles come with crib sheets, a comforter, a crib dust ruffle and bumper guard. If the set is popular enough, the manufacturer might also create additional items to "complete" the room. Say, curtains (or at least window valences), rugs, clocks, lamps, mobiles, you name it.

In the interest of full disclosure, we did register for a "John Lennon Music" window valance. Or maybe two. I can't remember. Because just as I shot that item into the registry scanner (which looked so much like a Star Trek tricorder that I wondered if it was designed that way so as to trick dads-to-be into enjoying the whole registry process), I noticed the most astonishing trend in baby fashion.

Animal prints.

I'm not talking about the goofy Lennon giraffe or the computer-generated Whirligig ladybug. I'm talking zebra. Tiger. Jaguar. Fierce beasts of the jungle and plain.

What immediately came to mind was Tim Meadows's "Ladies Man" character, the seedy gent who plies his sluts with Courvoisier and compliments them on their clingy polyester duds. I can see my baby (if it's a boy, that is) now, clad in tiger-print diaper covers, holding a bottle of breast milk in one hand and gesturing expansively with his other.

"Ladies ... welcome to my crib."

In fact, I tried this line on Barbara as we gaped at the $499 price tag for the animal print set (as a matter of comparison, most sets can be found for between $100 and $150--especially if you point out to the sales staff that you saw said item at Babies R Us for a much lower price) and we both cracked up for a minute or two.

Pregnancy is like pot; it often expands the humor zone.

Thing is, the Ladies Man couldn't afford five Cs for crib bedding. That's more Donald Trump territory. Are these garishly tacky sets a sort of "slumming" statement for the rich and stupid, or are animal prints actually the height of haute fashion des les infantes?

Got me. I'm still freaked out by the baby wipes warmer ($19.99 at Target). And that's not the half of things. With baby boomers heading into the ranks of grandparenthood in increasing numbers (my parents are among the first wave of that tribe, having been born almost exactly nine months after VJ Day), there are bound to be even more useless items on the shelves. By the time Barbara and I get around to critter #2, we may have to face such things as car seats with DVD attachments and baby bath Jacuzzis.

The good life just keeps getting better, I guess.

Jon Worley has purchased the one indispensable item for a new dad: A big ol' bottle of bourbon. With the easy-pour spout for faster service.