Would You Like Some Caviar with Your Fruit Loops Sir?

My sister Melissa received a catalog that she brought over to show me. We both puzzled about how she could have got on their mailing list until we remembered that her name was probably still there leftover from when she was married to Tom Cruise. You know, way back when.

But that's all water under the bridge now and there we were with a catalog brazenly calling itself Posh Tots. Yes, Posh Tots--and no, they're not a round, fried potato product they're a company presumably catering to the babies with money, you know the kind whose parents go into pregnancy interviewing wet nurses, governesses and headmasters?

Well you wouldn't believe the stuff they have in there. Many of their products aren't much pricier than what you'd find in PB Kids but then there's the Fairy Tale Bed for $9,500 (which is admittedly quite cool) or the Chuckwagon Toddler Bed for $13,995--plus shipping (probably via Air Force One). Does it strike anyone else as odd to have the only kid on the block sleeping in a replica Louis XV four-poster bed? That's the kid that's going to rock the hockey team. Somehow I'm thinking that my little heathens wouldn't appreciate have a Catherine de Medici bed set--unless maybe they could use their Sponge Bob sheets with it.

For $6000 you can book Collleen Phelon Hall, a certified Posh mural artist, to come and paint a mural on your child's wall. I didn't realize murals were such a hot commodity--maybe I shouldn't have washed all that crayon off the kids' walls after all and just passed it off as a Jackson Pollock tribute.

But it goes up from there. If the Fairy Tale bed is too proletariat for you can always upgrade to the Fantasy Coach pictured above for $47,000. You know why they call it a "fantasy" don't you? You'd have to be delusional to even consider buying one even if you could afford one. It's the kid's bed that's cost more than my car. And my husband's car. Combined--and then doubled.

But the best I'm saving for last. If purchasing small Caribbean nations has begun to bore you consider turning your thoughts to playground equipment because you can now purchase the Tumble Outpost play set for $122,730. Plus shipping. It's the playground set that comes with it's own time share plan.

I quote from the catalog, "Call for custom options and shipping information. Assembly required." Because $122,730 doesn't include shipping. Is it me, or for that price would you expect Posh Spice herself to fly out the pieces on her private jet and put it together while you sipped a Dr. Pepper on the veranda? Apparently that's extra. Hurry and buy now because supplies are limited.

And how on earth did they arrive at $122,730? I mean if you had your heart set on a Richie Rich playground couldn't you hire a craftsman to build one just like it for--what? $5,000? $10,000? So obviously there's a bit of markup on this thing and I'm curious how they arrived at such a random number. Maybe they're trying to convince you that it's actually worth the price by being so specific and outrageous--you know, normally it would only be $100,000 but the extra $22,730 gets you the 24 carat mulch nuggets underneath--which they recommend to a depth of nine inches for optimum safety.

I'd expect that Post Tots' clientele pays cash for their purchases because I'm having a hard time seeing someone taking out a mortgage for a playhouse. Hey--that's a good question, would it qualify for municipal property taxes?

I'd be curious, too, to meet the person who decides to spend a hundred and twenty grand on a jungle gym from flipping through a catalog because the thing is, if you're putting in a playground that costs at much as a Maserati you probably wouldn't be looking in a catalog, you'd be paying someone else to look through catalogs for you--like Mr. French or Alfred or something--or you'd at least pay someone to lift your arm to turn the page.

Sponsored by: jaC Jewelry--Beautiful custom-crafted jewelry you'll love but that costs much less than the Tumble Outpost.

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