As a working mother, and a writer, I’m not that interested in cleaning my home. No, let me rephrase that. I was NEVER really interested in cleaning, but now I always have something WAY more interesting to do. Add in a messy husband, kid who likes to leave toys out, and three cats and you can see why I don’t have people over often… At all… Same difference.
The other day I came upstairs to our loft/office/toy room/hairball collector/overall mess and stumbled across this site:
Yes, those are two four foot teddy bears. The first I won at a work contest (who says an adult in her late twenties can’t get giddy over winning a giant teddy bear?), the second a family friend sent my son. To which I thought: “why, dear God why, we already have one and he doesn’t care? Where am I going to put the second one?” But then my inner kid squealed “teddy!” and all was lost.
The bears have been in a variety of locations, currently taking up the only seating in the loft. Add in the kid and cats and they ended up in the above contortion (and since no one cleans are still there).
My mind instantly raced ahead to those teen years and thought I have walked in on two partying bears, drunk/hung over and paying the price when I flip on the lights. So what lead them to this? Was it a wild raging party? Or was it merely just a release needed after being trampled on by a four-year-old?
The captions swam in my head:
“What happened last night?”
“You don’t remember?”
“What was in that drink?”
“No clue man. Look, the ceiling’s moving!”
“The kid’s coming back, isn’t he?”
Ralph sobs uncontrollably.
As a side note, neither bear has been named Ralph. In fact, neither bear has a name. I’m a poor excuse for a stuffed animal lover.
What story do you see in these two?