I remember going to FAO Schwarz that afternoon. My roommate and I went a little nuts. Finally, she told me I had enough in my hands, I could buy him no more stuff, and we headed to the register. Only by the time we got to the register, everything I had been so precariously balancing in both my hands had somehow gotten squashed into one, because I had a giant stuffed frog under my other arm.
You can't tell from this picture just how big he is, but my sister took a picture of the newborn nephew in question curled up in the frog's lap. He's a couple feet high (the frog, not the nephew). And, apparently, was coming home with me to be sent to My Heart. Who am I to deny the power of the frog?
And now he's 21 (both the frog and the nephew, I suppose, if the frog made it this long). How is that even possible?
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
2 comments:
Terry and I got (back) together in March 1991. Her nephew, her sister's son, had been born the previous September. Terry was there and was the first to hold him since her sister was out cold.
So I've known him since he was an infant. He is now 23, in the Navy awaiting assignment. So hard to believe.
Resisting the temptation to break out into "Sunrise, Sunset." (Which Terry would hate, since she long ago worked tables at a dinner theater which ran "Fiddler on the Roof" for way too long.)
I share your delight!
Mike C ~ You *do* get it! There is no delight quite like this one, is there? And if you are refraining from bursting into song, I will do the same ~ but only just barely.
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