Little Ouiser had a great birthday. I'll lead with that. And a picture for good measure...
...because I'm good to you, right? I made her biscuits and eggs for breakfast. We decorated some delicious cupcakes together. She played for hours with her friend S, and I don't think that either of them took a swing at the other. Her mama and I chatted. Little Ouiser rested on the couch watching the Strawberry Shortcake movie that I DVRed for her. Her daddy came home early, and we gave her her big present (more on that later, I assure you). We had the Feathernesters over for dinner, and the girls made their own pizzas. We ate. We sang to S. We had cupcakes. I read books to S and L (and T, I suppose). That's the birthday rundown. That's not what I'm hear to talk about today.
Today I want to talk about stuffed animals. I am serious.
I hate stuffed animals. Hate them. I fear I might be alone in this loathing because stuffed animals are everywhere. It's a kajillion dollar industry from what I can tell, and it's not slowing down because the darn things are so cute that people just keep buying them. And they are cute. And cuddly. Don't get me wrong, I see the appeal. Here's what I don't like.
S has approximately fifty-seven thousand stuffed animals, and she wants them all to live on her bed. Every morning we have to say "Good morning," to Froggy and Bubblegum Cake (a plush doll) that she sleeps with. Then when we make her bed, we say, "Good morning" to Rosie the Pillow Pet, Bea the bear, Pinky Princess the tie-dyed bear, Mouse, Duck, Sleeping Beauty, Curious George (who moonlights as Cosmo Brown from Singin' in the Rain, the aforementioned Froggy masquerades as Don Lockwood), Sheep, and Baby Stella the doll. We have to pile them just right onto her bed. Then we have to unload them again for rest time because there isn't room on her bed for her and all the animals. Then we reload after rest time. Then we unload again at bedtime. It gets tedious, and every single time that I try to move an animal to the play room, she drags it back because, "That's not where it goes, Mommy."
So what is one supposed to do with all the animals? I could buy one of those hanging toy basket things. I could buy one of those stuffed animal nets that hangs in a corner and makes stuffed animals a dust-trapping part of one's room decor. I could put them in a big basket. I know there are options, but if you employ one of those options, then the animals probably won't get played with, so what's the point in having them? This is not to imply that S plays with hers because she doesn't. The goofy things just take up space and make me crazy.
Look, she loves Froggy. He's been with her forever, and I could never part with Bea. Our friends B and S gave her to S when she was still in the hospital. But all those other ones? I'd throw them into a nice hot fire if I wouldn't get thrown into Mommy Dearest jail.
Am I alone in this? Am I?
Probably I'm the only person who cares enough to blog about stuffed animal hatred, but I think about it almost everyday, and when I saw this post during my morning internet surfing, I just couldn't contain my complaints any longer.
Now, I'm going to check on my daughter, who may or may not be hypnotized by her new Leapster.