One of our excursions in Germany was an incredibly scenic mountain bus ride in the Black Forest Region. The primary purpose of this trip must have been scenery, but we somehow ended up at a cuckoo/souvenir shop in the middle of nowhere. Now how did that happen?
I was drooling over some exquisite Christmas ornaments when I heard Stephen behind me.
“Hey hun, how about we get this for N?” (That would be Miles Catowner’s little daughter, she who pulls Fluffy’s tail and makes him flee to our house for sanctuary.) He was holding a small fluffy bear. In lederhosen. The bear was in lederhosen, not Stephen.
“Sure!” I said, and went back to my drooling.
The bear accompanied us home, and Stephen was going to take it over to Miles’ house the other day. He was putting it into a bag when he noticed something odd.
“Hey hun, there’s something wrong with this bear.”
“Hmmm?” I looked up from making breakfast.
“It’s got something weird in its back.”
That got my full attention. I went over to him and took the bear.
“See, there.” And he pointed to an opening in the bear’s back, closed with Velcro.
Now, you have to realize, Stephen never had kids. He does not understand what all parents instinctively know – Velcro openings in the backs of fluffy critters are never good. I turned the bear over. Tummy or paw? Paws were too small, so it had to be tummy. I squeezed the bear’s tummy.
It yodeled. The. Bear. Yodeled.
I handed the still-yodeling creature back to Stephen and returned to my breakfast, remarking casually as I did, “You do realize Miles is going to kill you for this one, right?”