When the twins were born last summer, we received an inordinate amount of baby gifts.

Two babies, two of everything. And, as is the nature of such things, we had a few duplicates. Baby clothes mostly, bibs and such. Some from Target as evidenced by the price tags and the brand: Circo.

Much to the dismay of some of my fellow Parkerites, I've always been pretty neutral on the Big Box Stores. That was until I had a whole gaggle of kiddos.

Now, if I can get all three of them out (and back in) the car just one time while shopping, I don't mind the incongruity of buying my organic strawberries a mere three aisles away from the motor oil.

That being said, I took a little road trip last fall to our shiny, newly opened Super Target with my three month old boys in tow. Into the stroller, through the doors, and on to Customer Service, though, in retrospect, a more apt name for this area might be Customer Interrogation Center.

Me, pushing the baby stroller back and forth slowly so the twins wouldn't realize they were not really going anywhere: "Hi, I'd like to exchange this stuff we got as baby gifts for some other stuff I'd like to pick out in the baby area."

Target Employee/Operative, smiling because she sensed she'd just lucked into a fine interrogation situation: "Do you have a receipt?"

Me, still pushing the stroller: "Nope. But I don't want money for this stuff. I just want some new stuff. Stuff that fits them. See? (gesturing at the 15 pound piglets disguised as babies in the stroller) They're already too big for this stuff."

Target Employee/Stormtrooper, nodding slowly to communicate her disbelief of my story: "I'll need to see your driver's license then."

Me, stilling pushing stroller and also adding in some half turns to keep things interesting for the little guys and digging my wallet out of my purse simultaneously: "Here ya go."

Target Employee/Sleestak, her mouth turning down sourly and holding my license with only two fingers as if I had just handed her a small, flat, plastic dog turd with my picture on it.

Now it is at this juncture that generally a phenomenon I refer to as 'The Twin Thing' occurs. Whomever I am dealing with suddenly seems to notice the hulking Hummer of a stroller and then they notice Thing One and Thing Two.

Usually, they smile and start asking questions. ('Are they twins?' 'Do twins run in your family?' etc. etc.) But this Target Employee/Retail-zilla did not engage.

She looked down at them and then up at me as if she couldn't believe I would go as far as to employ two infantile actors (not 'infantile' as used as a behavior adjective as it applies to the marginally talented Alec Baldwin) to assist with my subversive ruse.

To make a long story short, I was finally allowed to exchange the stuff after also handing over a major credit card, proof that I had a checking account, my home telephone number and a blood sample.

But I was given a stern warning (by the equally disapproving manager of the Interrogation Department) that I (as a suspected thief of baby clothing) would not be allowed to return anything else at any Target store anywhere for one full calendar year.

Herr Commandant said all of this to me with a straight face before dismissing me and my offspring with a brisk head nod and turning on his ' Isaac Mizrahi for Target' heels and goose-stepping back to the room with the one-way mirror from whence he came.

Don't get me wrong, stealing is bad. It is my understanding that the industry term is "inventory shrinkage". U.S. retailers, like the hyper-suspicious Super Target stores, lose some $30 billion dollars annually.

Some $10 million of that, admittedly, to customer scams and shoplifters, but the majority to vendor fraud, sticky-fingered employees and even plain ol' administrative error.

But these very same American retailers want us to register our weddings and babies with them. They want us to shop with them during the holidays. These stores, like my local Super Target, WANT our business, both in person and online.

And the reality is this: Not every gift I receive from Target comes wrapped with its respective handy-dandy gift receipt (the Target version of a Get Out of Jail FREE card) and I don't care to further clutter up my filing cabinet with a folder full of receipts for things as mundane as cat litter and cheese sticks.

So, here's the deal, Target... I understand that if I roll in with two 20 inch flat screens, a sketchy story and no proof of payment, AND demanding my money back that you are going to be suitably suspicious and deny me my ill-gotten spoils. Be as snooty as you'd like about it.

But, as was the case just last week, if I come in with an inadvertently purchased, out-of-date, unopened gallon of 2% milk that I just want to exchange, please don't treat me like I snuck out of your store earlier with the god damn thing stuck down my crop pants. Okay?

You are in my retail crosshairs, Super Target, and I'm warning you now that I shoot with my checkbook and I've got pretty good aim for a girl.