Sofie just might be one of the most divisive issues of our time. If you’re a parent (or at least a parent of a certain socioeconomic bracket), you know who she is. If you’re a normal person, you have no idea what I’m talking about.

Let me bring those of you without kids or an excess of cash up to speed.

This is Sofie.

She's French, which maybe explains why she's so divisive. People love her or don't understand her. And she's a total wine snob.

Everyone I know who has a baby has a Sofie. She’s a required element of yuppie child rearing, even more ubiquitous among this set than a Bugaboo or an Uppababy (we’re totally team Uppababy, btw).

Yes, we wildly overpaid for a stroller. And when Das Baby was first released from the NICU, he was sequestered (like a juror, except he was avoiding germs instead of the media), so it was mostly used to wheel him around the house. Herr Husband, it should be noted, does an amazing stroller kitchen tour. Like a duck boat or something, but with maple cabinets and a trash compactor.

Sofie is the bestselling infant/toddler toy on, where she can be had for $17.32 instead of her retail price of $24. She’s a squeaky rubber giraffe and she costs $24. I wish I had been the one to come up with the idea of marketing dog toys to babies and inflating the price twentyfold.

Now, full disclosure. We have a Sofie (part of an adorable gift from my fabulous former boss, herself a preemie mom to a now wildly successful young woman). The gift also included an adorable preemie outfit and blanket, both of which also featured a giraffe. So Sofie fit right in.

And Das Baby loves Sofie now that he is teething (we think–copious drooling and an uptick in whining suggest either teething or transformation into a dog, inspired perhaps, by playing with a dog toy!). He tries to fit her whole head into his mouth. Maybe he won’t be a vegetarian like his parents. As long as he’s not a Republican (sorry, Republican friends/readers! Yes, that’s right. I have Republican friends).

Call me a bad yuppie mom, but I still don’t get why Sofie is such a thing. How do these marketing geniuses manage to convince us that we must have such things for our children? Do they use mommy guilt? Creepy mommy competitiveness? Is it that Sofie is French? Is the friendly half-smile painted on her face (see above) actually a Svengali mind control stare that makes us think we need her?  What will she try to make us do next?

I’ve got my eye on you, Sofie. You’re not going to make me do anything. Unless you can make Das Baby stop crying when he’s teething. In which case I’ll do anything you want. Anything. Except vote Republican…Unless…

Damn, Sofie’s good.


7 Comments on “Sofie”

  1. dayna says:

    leda… you are an amazing writer… love this stuff! and good to know herr hub is doing good duck tours… lol…

  2. Aubrey says:


    You are hilarious. I just have to weigh in here on the Sophie issue. Perhaps it’s because we are une famille francophile, or perhaps it’s because our little Hendrix now has 12 teeth, but we believe that Sophie is the best baby (and dog) toy ever. So much so that Hendrix dressed as Sophie for Halloween. So much so that when Hendrix tossed his first Sophie out of the Bugaboo (yes, we are yuppies, but we are TEAM Bugaboo all the way), Owen promptly marched us to Pizzazz and purchased Sophie Deux. Also, a leash.


  3. addie says:

    Love this blog Leda!!!

    • Leda says:

      Hey, Addie,
      Thanks so much and thanks for reading!
      How are you? How is Harry? He is GORGEOUS (just checked out his FB photo)! And how was finishing the program and TAing with a newborn?
      Miss you!

  4. Sara says:

    Even with three children, I have never heard or seen one of these! Maybe it’s an East coast thang . . . 🙂

  5. Sara says:

    By the way – we’re TEAM BOB all the way! The Revolution is the best stroller we have ever had!

  6. Jennifer SP says:

    No, no, no Sofie for us. Nope. None Sofies. Four children, at least two in the Sofie Era, and we have held strong. I will save my $18 for the important things in life. Like two venti skinny vanilla lattes.

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