Piper made me this for my birthday. It’s her first written ‘I Love You.’ And it’s a collage, too.
Piper put the crown on me because it’s my birthday and she says I’m royalty. I’m the one in the yellow dress; yellow is my favorite color. The big black thing is the same in all of Piper’s pictures. It’s Junie, her stuffed dog that she takes everywhere because her parents won’t buy her a real dog. Poor thing. Piper is the red stick figure. And that shovel thing she’s holding is an award she’s presenting me with for being Queen of the Universe. Of course.
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.”
“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.