Thank you, Hug Me Elmo, for spontaneously working tonight after seven months of silence. Screeching “I love to hug you!” in the still darkness of my finally-sleeping-3-year-old’s bedroom.
I mean, it only took me 90 minutes to
bribe lull him to sleep, but hey, it’s cool.
Week after week, you’ve refused to utter a word when my toddler embraced you, leaving him writhing in the agony of his very first rejection. Yet he continued to give you chance after chance to return his love. Stone cold you remained. A plush, yet not at all soft and cuddly, life-sized ‘talking’ doll.
What’s that? I could have simply changed your batteries and solved the whole mess ages ago? Have you ever tried to pry your battery compartment open?! It’s exhausting. And I’m busy. And that’s beside the point!
Why tonight of all nights you decided to let loose your ear-piercing la-la-la-la-ing out of nowhere. My heart can withstand an irregular beat…or six. Don’t sweat it.
Now if you’re through with your incessant demands for affection, I’ve got to run.
That 70th round of Twinkle Twinkle isn’t going to sing itself.
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