Get These Mother F*&@ing Snakes Off My Mother F#!$ing Couch

When I was a little girl my parents took me and my sister to Silver Dollar City in Branson, MO several times. To those of you who have not been to this fantastic arena of fun and excitement, Silver Dollar City is like olden days Disney World. Country Six Flags. Where Jesus would walk if he wanted to eat a giant turkey leg and hear some cute blonde girls in overalls playing fiddles sing songs about him.

I have such fantastic memories from there, Jesus songs and all. But out of all of my Silver Dollar City memories the one that stands out the most prominently involves the time we went and I was 8 and my sister was 5. It doesn’t involve eating a giant pickle on a stick or walking beside my father when he went through that unfortunate knee high black tube socks with white tennis shoes and shorts phase. No no, my strongest memory involves the trip to the souvenir store.

It was my favorite part of any trip, and my parents were so awesome to always let us look through the magnets and cups that never had my name on them. But on this particular journey I fell in love with a brown bear dressed up like Martha Washington. Beautiful blue bonnet. Silky maroon dress and these adorable black tie up shoes. And $50.

It’s a lot of money now for a teddy bear, back then it was monumental. In the end my wonderful sister actually forfeited getting a souvenir of her own just so I could take Martha Washington Bear home with me. I got Martha Washington Bear, and my sister got bragged about for generations. Her unending generosity and givingness and all. Earned the respect of others all while I looked like a greedy pig. But you know what, I didn’t care because I LOVED Martha, deep pure made my husband carry her with him ON the airplane love. She is far too fantastic to be checked.

But I guess I am a sort of teddy bear slut. Martha was special, but she was far from my one and only. I love them all. Anything stuffed and cuddly and cute. If it has pink rhinestones on it, all the better. In fact wherever we went with my family, if there was a souvenir to be gotten, mine was of the plush variety. That is what made me happiest.

So now I’m the Mommy and I am fortunate enough to be able to take my little girl to the souvenir stores at the end of our adventures. Her name is also not on one single pen, bracelet or keychain but that’s ok, because I walk her right over to the stuffed animal section. She smiles. Sometimes I get an “aw that is so cute, Mommy!” But then she leads me away. To the plastic spiders. Or the tube of Galapagos animal figurines. Or the giant octopus made of real “ooey gooey glow in the dark fun.”

We are in Baltimore accompanying my husband on a business trip and some friends and I took her to the FANTASTIC aquarium. And she was a super star after the long day and of course got to go for a present. There was so much great stuff there. And do you know what she picked? Snakes. Plastic snakes. A bag of plastic, yet highly colorful snakes. There are 9 snakes. And they are all taking a nap with her right now.

Our toy bins are full of all of these little plastic creepy crawly slimy smelly freaky deaky animals. I mean it’s good. She plays these wildly creative games with them. And loves each and every thing we buy. She is appreciative and thankful and associates the item with the adventure at which they were purchased. I just really wish I didn’t have to play them with her. Or touch them. Or carry them around. Because ew.

I don’t know why it bums me out so. She loves animals, that’s good. She’s creative and fun, that’s great. I could be cool and say I just wanted her to be like me. But really it’s just because I wanted the purple octopus with a yellow sparkle necklace.