I hate stuffed animals. I always remember hating stuffed animals.
In fourth grade we had a gift exchange for Christmas. Everyone was supposed to bring a gift that would be good for a boy or a girl. I brought this cool art set. Anywhoo, we all sat in a large circle on the floor holding our wrapped gifts. The teacher read the story "The Night Before Christmas" and every time she said the word "the" we had to pass what was in our hands to the right. About half way through I felt it. The wrapping crinkled in my hands as I squished. I thought to myself: "What 4th grader wants a stuffed animal?"...Claire, she brought this in. She loves stuffed animals. Damn Claire (raise both fists and shake here). The next "the" couldn't come soon enough. It actually seemed like I might even end up with my own gift. Fantastic! The teacher must have had the same sense because we awere almost done the story and she told us to start passing the gifts the opposite way. NO! The non-descript stuffed present was making its way back towards me! So that you are no longer in suspense, yes, I got the stuffed animal. I don't remember what it was, probably a bear with a santa hat or something, but I got it. Its hard to act like you like something when your 10. I do remeber being so pissed as I looked at everyone else. It was the only stuffed animal, and I got it. Merry bleeping Christmas! That being said........
Blog-world meet Batty...Batty- blog-world
If you have ever met Jack you have most likely met Batty. For they are one soul in one body and a pile of fluff-n-stitch.
It was October and Jack's first Halloween. Our mailman frequents the local crane machine during his routes. I guess he enjoys it, that and at the time he had 3 daughters of his own. He won the bat and thought it would be nice to give to Jack.
Let me say that by being a stay at home mom, getting the mail is somewhat of a highlight. That plus the fact that Jack & I were always outside cemented a friendship with our mailman- Jon.
Back on track, I smiled and took the bat and handed it to Jack. I was sure it was going to end up in the pile of stuffed creatures that one accumulated when they have their first child. Jack had so many. But there was only one bat...it started as a mutual attraction and quickly turn into love. Serious love, like the kind you have in 10th grade and stuff and nothing is more important and nobody understands your love....get it?
But there is something more important than mere Batty himself...meet Batty tag....
The ratty piece of string is the original Batty tag. He holds it to his face as he sucks his thumb. Double whammy right? He puts this tag on his boo-boos to make them well again. This tag the holy host for my kid (sorry mom). This tag is also on its way out.
The dear mailman, seeing Batty's state has won 2 other identical bats for Jack. No go. He likes them, but they are not Batty. One is "Daddy Batty" and the other is "Fatty Batty"...yup thats right, he never said it was me, but what am I supposed to think in my fragile state!?!?!
This bat has been sewn up more than Frankenstein's monster- especially the tag. So, I, praying for a miracle, cut the tag off of one of the other bats and sewed it onto the Batty. My hope is that when the original has passed on that the newer one will be just worn enough to pass.
I fear the loss of the original. I also fear the fact that the tag says "Well made in China"...my kid could be breathing in lead fumes as we speak...Pray for Batty tag people...his days are numbered...I'm holding a vigil now and am prepared to sit shiva in the event of...I can't say it anymore...