When my best friend Tobias and I failed to get shop class assignments in seventh grade, we had to go to the school office to get them. On the way past the cooking shop classroom, we paused at the door to titter at the unfortunate boys stuck there instead of, say, wood shop or metal shop or printing (this was the '70s folks, and we were 12, remember, don't expect too much forward thinking).

Karma being what it is, you can guess what our assignments were and how we held our heads as we entered the classroom five minutes later (and then in sewing class the following year!). Lesson learned.

So, I never gloated while passing by and seeing the poor saps among my fellow parents getting roped into all the accoutrements at the Build-A-Bear store at the local mall. I just quietly walked past, relieved that my toddler's face betrayed not even the slightest interest in going inside what looked like a place that sucked money from pockets faster than its big machine blows stuffing into toys.

Recently, he asked to go in and so we did a quick turn around the place and left and that was that. Two days later, we were back at a different Build-A-Bear location selecting a "bear" to build. I put bear in quotes because many of the options aren't bears at all and after some consideration, T. Rex became our "bear" of choice.

We stuffed the dinosaur-flavored bear -- especially memorable, it seems, was putting the heart inside -- filled out its birth certificate and a added a T-shirt that will always remind us where "Freddie" was "born." Every step of the way, my toddler had a great time -- Freddie even got two baths -- and so did the parents.

The experience didn't last all that long, but considering the cost of plush toys and the fun we had together, I think $25 (more or less, once you include the shirt and tax) was almost a bargain.

Makes me glad I never scoffed.