What a Crock

It was the summer of 2009.  Found overselves in gorgeous Mont Tremblant (ok, drove for over 9 hours to get there) on a rainy August afternoon.  Ducked for cover in this super cute build-your-own-stuffed-animal place called Univers Toutou.  Big Mistake.  The (then) 7 year old and 3.5 year old, of course, wanted to build their own.  Indulgent parents on vacation that we were, we let our offspring explore the store to find their baby of choice.

Both chickis landed at the same time on an adorable green crocodile.  Meanwhile, I had landed on an equally adorable (or so I thought) darling white and black polka dot cow. Images of me and V parading around Madras in matching outfits flashed across my mind, and I decided that I had to make sure the girls didn’t both buy the same croc.  Plus, I was in love.  With the cow.  So, ignoring sage advice from Appa, Amma, and N to just get what the kids were asking for, I proceeded to brainwash the 3.5 year old that the cow was the way to go (no, not proud of this – just sharing with you).

After taking out a small loan to pay for the overpriced croc and cow, including outfits that were more expensive than what I was wearing that day, we came back to the hotel tired and happy and loaded with our day’s shopping.  Except we weren’t all happy.  Both the chickis had wanted the croc (named by now as “Crocky”) at the store, and that was what they wanted when they got back to the hotel.  It was official.  Black and white cow in pink fairy costume (named by me as “Didi”) was an orphan.  Or an unwanted step child, at best.  The battle that started over Crocky that night lasted several months, erupting sometimes when least expected.  I mean, Crocky launched more battleships in our household than that Helen of Troy chick did in her time.  I got to the point of putting the girls down for bed at different times, just so each could fall asleep cuddling Crocky.

This went on until June 2010.

No, neither Crocky lover moved on or anything (in fact, they still haven’t moved on all that much).  But Crocky just mysteriously disappeared one day.  Both girls were distraught.  I offered fairy cow Didi again (I am nothing if not consistent) but again there were no takers.  After watching the girls being miserable for over a week, searching high and low around the house, and (unsuccessfully) making a last ditch visit to our local build-a-bear store, there was only one thing left to do.  Yes, we decided to bite the bullet and order a Crocky look alike from the same Toutou store in Mont Tremblant (desperate times call for desperate measures).  N, who was sick of the fight for Crocky (and easier on the purse strings than me), ordered two new crocs from the store.

The day that the two new crocs arrived was a momentous one.  Not because the girls lived peacefully ever after (still waiting for that).  But because, inexplicably, the original Crocky dude also re-surfaced that same day.

Imagine my face, sitting there holding three overpriced crocs.

Fast forward (approximately) three years.  I put Crocky in the clothes washer for the nth time today.  The two new crocs joined Didi at the bottom of the stuffed toy box shortly after they arrived, and have remained there ever since.  Well.  Look at the bright side.  At least, the cow has some company now.

Crocky (subsequently re-christened “Hydro Jaw”) – despite looking like an old chew toy after years of lovering by the girls – continues to be the coolest dude in town today.

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4 thoughts on “What a Crock

  1. Pingback: Photo of the Week – 7 | Momto2cuddlebugs

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