B.Y.O.B.

Piper wants a teddy bear. Not just any teddy bear will do. It has to be a Build-A-Bear and it has to grow from birth. Piper’s birthday is coming up.  A teddy bear is entirely possible, but I fear she has something more complicated in mind.

“My bear is being born right now,” she whispered to me at nap time. “He’s three minutes old.”

“Really?  How do you know?”

Piper rolls her eyes at my question. “I’m his mother. His Build-A-Bear mother. I know.”

“So your Build-A-Bear is growing right now?” I’m actually trying to follow her logic. There may be a real question in there somewhere that I need to address.

“Only if I buy him will he actually be built and grown. It’s like a daughter. Like you grew me. With a computer.”

“I didn’t pick you out on a computer, P. I grew you in my body,” I explain.

“Right. But you chose me. I remember.”

“You remember?”

“Yes. I was on the shelf waiting to be born. Then you came in and chose me. It was exactly like at Build-A-Bear.”

Hmm. I remember it a bit differently, but I’m pretty sure arguing will be futile.

About these ads

4 thoughts on “B.Y.O.B.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s