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Love is Blind, With REALLY BIG EARS

It is a fascinating case study to watch each of my children, and the people or things that they become attached to.

The little crushes, as it were.

Emme fell deeply in love with Mr. Rogers when she was small.  “He is so handsome,” she would sigh, as she watched him slip on his loafers at the end of every show.

I still don’t have the heart to tell her that he’s dead.

Cailey’s taste in the opposite sex has been somewhat nefarious in my estimation.  The last known suitor was a hapless nose picker, from a couple of years ago.  I consoled myself by the knowledge that at least they shared an interest.

Jensen’s taste is more widespread.  And diverse.  For the longest time he only had eyes for his two girl cousins.  Who were coincidentally, sisters.

Which is just inappropriate on so many levels.

But for the last 6 months or so, his affection has been leveled at a gal who wears a red polka doted dress, high heels, wears white gloves, and goes my the name of Minnie Mouse.

Around Christmas time, we went to the Magic Kingdom for a family vacation.  We had a prime photo opportunity for a family portrait with Minnie and Mickey.  As we waited in line, Jensen began asking questions such as, “Can I touch Minnie’s dress, Mom?  What’s under Minnie’s dress, Mom?”

I had to give a quick impromptu lesson on modesty and how we never never never look up anyone’s skirt.  And I secretly prayed that Minnie closely adhered to Disney costume protocol and was wearing the large white bloomers.  Just in case.

At last our turn came, and we gathered around the pair for a picture.  Alas, the photographer could not get Jensen to look into the lens.  Because young Jensen could not take his eyes off of Minnie.  Not even for a moment.

We had to drag him away.  Heartbreaking.

He made it very clear as his 4th birthday approached that all he really wanted was a soft Minnie, with a “blowed up dress.”

In lay terms, this means a stuffed Minnie Mouse doll with a dress that has good twirling capabilities.  Because he likes to see her bloomers.

“Where does he get this?” his father quizzed me.

Just like how Emme gets all giggly and weird around certain members of the opposite sex.  I can assure you that I haven’t been coaching her.

I respond, “I’m tellin’ you, they come out like that.  It’s normal.”

So, the hunt has been on for a soft Minnie with a blowed up dress (we’ll just call it for what it is…the Marilyn Monroe mystique.)

Couldn’t find one.  And I tell you, I would rather walk on glass than pay retail for a stinkin’ Minnie stuffed doll, when I had two perfectly good ones that I GAVE AWAY before I knew I would have a son who wanted to marry Minnie Mouse.

On the day before the 4th birthday, in our desperation, we all set out to do a little garage sale shopping.  There were a lot of retired folks out there looking to simplify, but very few sales with kid’s items.

Fiddledaddy suggested that I start asking people if they had one to get rid of.  And so I did.  The first promising house with kid’s junk thrown out on tarps I made mention that I was desperately looking for a stuffed Minnie Mouse.  They only had Pooh and Tigger.

As I was preparing to leave the mom called to me and told me that her daughter ran upstairs to find an old forgotten Minnie Mouse.

“She’s kind of big, though.”

“I don’t care.  Cough her up.”

I didn’t really say that, but my demeanor did.

Fiddledaddy heard the exchange and wisely turned the van around so that Jensen could not see.

The little girl came out carrying a Minnie Mouse doll that was nearly the size of Jensen.

“How much?”

They hemmed and hawed, and I heard the mother say something like “I don’t know, ten, or twenty.”


Then the little girl said resolutely, “Five dollars.”

Which made my millennium, because five dollars was all I had.  And under normal circumstances, I would NEVER have bought a stuffed doll at a garage sale for a five spot.

But desperate times call for desperate measures.

I sneaked big Minnie with her purple blowed up dress into the back of the van.  To be fumigated later.

The next morning, after opening his other two inferior gifts, we presented him with giant Minnie.  Who by the way, when fitted with 2 AA batteries, talks.

He wouldn’t go near her.  Just eyed her from a distance.  And would walk by, casting sideways glances.  Then ignore her completely.

“They come out that way, too.  Pine after a woman, and then when they get her, they don’t know what to do with her,” I sniffed.

But later in the day I noticed he had sidled up to Minnie and was squeezing her tummy to make her giggle.

And lifting her dress to make sure that her pantaloons were in place.

And there was peace on earth.

Love comes in all kinds of packages.


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