I love my Dad. He’s got an amazing sense of humor and quite the imagination.
Growing up, my sister and I have always been surrounded by teddy bears. There are old ones, new ones, big and small. Each has a name and each comes with their own unique story. For example, Snowy is a giant white polar bear who showed up one Christmas for my sister along with his brother Miel (French for honey), my big brown bear with a red bow tie. They adorned our beds all the way through high school.
These two, along with their other buddies, have had some wild adventures in their time. Dad loved to play a game with us growing up. While we were out, or just before bed, he’d sneak into our rooms and position the bears in silly poses for us to catch. When we’d walk back in they’d always get a laugh, even from two rather temperamental teenagers.
Once Snowy climbed up on Miel’s shoulders to peak out my sister’s window. When I had forgotten to clean my room one day, I found my small brown bear with a bra strapped to his head like a helmet. He looked a lot like Snoopy piloting his doghouse! Another night Miel had a pencil tucked behind one ear running numbers on my calculator. But I have to say that my all-time favorite was when I was headed to college and found my little bear writing me a note of how much he’d miss me. Yes, of course there were tears.
Last week a cousin of ours was here for the wedding and even she remembers when Dad surprised her with her first big bear at Christmas. We were in Wisconsin and on Christmas Eve the door bell rang. Santa’s bootprints where left in the snow and a little way down the sidewalk a big white bear was waiting just for her. She still keeps it in her apartment.
That’s my Dad. For Christmas a few years back my little sister surprised Dad with a bear of his own, a curly-haired little guy named Oatmeal. C has one just like him now and I can’t wait until she’s old enough to play with him. I’m sure her Grandpa’s got many more stories in the works.
Now, as a mom who definitely wants in on this game, I’ve decided to add a twist all my own – foreign accents! This morning I introduced C to two of her friends. First we met P.B.K. (sorry, but his initials were printed on his shirt). He’s a British bear who thinks he looks fiendishly handsome in his pink striped pajamas. Okay, so he may have been a she but I’ve had to take some artistic license since girl accents are a lot harder to do. And then there’s Pierre, the somewhat rude and moody French cow/giraffe (we’re not quite sure which one he’s supposed to be). A great start… I just hope I can keep them all straight!