This here is a recipe for my warm fuzzies. My sweet happy baby and my old monkey friend met and decided to be the best of friends. Shucks!
I’ve had this little monkey friend for 15 years! Fifteen! You may not know this about me, but I don’t keep anything for 15 years, I’m the opposite of a hoarder. “Pitch it” is one of my favorite phrases. When I clean a room, I grab a giant black trash bag to start. That sort of thing. But this little guy here. Well, this little monkey friend named Boing (you just can’t pitch things you name) has been hanging around on my unmade bed for years and years, even through college. But since I’ve been married, he has found a home on my nightstand. I wasn’t exactly sure what would become of him. That is, until the other day when my dreamy little son and I were playing on my bed and he began to crawl and reach as he does. Crawl. Reach. Crawl. Reach. gasp. Crawl. Reach. Until I finally realized, that crawling baby was reaching for a little monkey friend. Well!Now Boing spends his days laying on the playroom floor and being hugged tight, slobbered on, babbled at, and kissed all day long.
I say, after fifteen years, it was time for a promotion.