Mondays must be unofficial Stay-at-Home Dad Days at our local Target.

Twice a month, I hit the big-box store on Mondays. Twice a month, I’m one of quite literally dozens of dads in the Infant/Toddler section to stock up on supplies.

Our faces are different but our carts look the same: bulk size bags of diapers, multiple rings of Diaper Genie refills, random replacement baby clothes and wipes up the wazoo.

Occasionally, one or two of us might even tote a box of breast milk storage bags.

Whatever we’re buying, none of us dads ever goes with a spouse. Instead, the cast of peripheral characters is always different. Some of us are there with kids in tow; others are there entirely solo (as I was this afternoon).

Perhaps most curiously, we Target-shopping dads rarely if ever interact. There’s this unspoken code among dudes that prevents us from chatting when we find ourselves in potentially embarrassing situations. This code always plays itself out in public bathrooms, when we’re doing our business in front of a row of urinals. Apparently, it also rears its ugly head in the baby aisle.

Every now and again, a rebel dad or two breaks the silence. One time, a fellow dad gave me the nonchalant “What’s up” eyebrow raise. On another occasion, a dad said, flatly, “Hey.”

In both instances, I only smiled and nodded in response.

It wasn’t that I felt embarrassed, or that I wanted to be unfriendly; I was just wary to engage and therefore invade the other dads’ space. My thinking is that there are times and places for stay-at-home dad bonding. None involve the Santa Rosa Target.