I think I may be going crazy. Admittedly. I've always had the "Toy Story" thing happening in my head. That is, believing that after I go to bed or leave the room, my toys would all come to life. They would talk to each other, play, etc. Fine when you're a child, right?
I still have quite a few of my stuffed toys. Unable to give them up, I dragged many of them all the way from Newfoundland to Ontario. They have moved so many times that I'd stopped unpacking them.
Since we are moving, I've been packing boxes a little bit here and there. And in the top of my closet I discovered a box - full of stuffed animals. Most of them bears, some collectables. There was a dog - a gift from an ex that I decided I should part with. There was another bear, I couldn't figure out where it had come from. No sentimental ties and therefore I decided to put it in the giveaway box as well.
So, I'm sitting there and looking at each and every one of the toys, reminiscing about "teddy McTavish", describing to Jamie about how this scruffy childhood bear was named after hockey player Craig McTavish. My dad watched hockey quite often, as often as he could. Craig McTavish always stood out to me, not because I knew anything about hockey, but because Mr. McTavish did not wear a helmet as did the other players. Jamie stood there watching me in disbelief, shook his head, and then playfully threatened to throw the toys over the balcony. Ugh...how dare he even mention doing such a thing?
I begin repacking the box, carefully placing each bear in to ensure its "comfort", meaning no stuffing into the box but rather strategically placing each one either sitting or laying down, trying not to twist arms and legs into awkward positions. And I realize that I'm talking to them. Yes, OUT LOUD talking to them:
"Ok, I think I'll put you over here and when we get to the house I'm going to put you on top of my dresser" (speaking to Teddy Mctavish)
"No, you'll probably find that uncomfortable. Let me just move your tail a little." (speaking to Puss in Boots)
And then I look over to the giveaway box and they look so sad so what else could I do but begin talking to them as well:
"Ya know, you shouldn't look so sad. I mean, you're going to a nice new home where a little boy or girl will actually play with you instead of you having to stay packed in a box all the time." How ungrateful!!
And suddenly the realization that I probably need counselling due to some unresolved issues. I quickly packed the rest of the toys in silence and taped the box shut.
Please tell me that there is at least one other person in the blogger world who has talked openly to inanimate objects in their adult life...please, just one? anyone? Maybe we could do therapy together.