Earlier this week we were in Hobby Lobby looking for Thanksgiving decor. Apparently, there’s not much of a market for fall leaves and cornucopias because it was slim pickins’. Of course it could also be because the stuff was 80% off and going fast. The last $2 slinky-legged turkey? Score!
As we made our way down the Thanksgiving aisle, Jack became enamored with a three foot tall scarecrow. I noticed his interest, did the math for an 80% discount, and told him he could have the scarecrow. He hadn’t been planning to ask for it, so he was delighted with my $5 generosity. He immediately dubbed the scarecrow Harvey “because he only comes around during harvest time.” Jack then proceeded to tote Harvey all over Hobby Lobby. While talking to him. Aloud.
Jack and Harvey admired the Christmas ornaments, chased Cooper down the greeting card aisle, and debated which candy they would choose had I been willing to part with an additional $5. I was equally amused and horrified by the entire scene.
Alert! A mommy secret is about to be revealed: half amused/half horrified is how most moms feel about their kids’ public behavior.
When we got in the the car, Jack put Harvey in the back seat & tried to buckle him in.
When we arrived home, Jack gave Harvey a tour of the house.
When he had to go number two, Jack took Harvey into the bathroom.
Basically, Jack spent the evening talking to Harvey.
Let’s revisit the half amused/half horrified thing. I started to lean more toward horrified as the night wore on. I mean my seven-year-old was in his room, chatting up a scarecrow. Then I realized he was chatting up Harvey INSTEAD of me. Here I was not being “talked at” and I wasn’t relishing it. Dubya Tee Eff was wrong with me? I decided to go with the flow and enjoy a chatterbox free evening.
At bedtime, I decided Harvey should be moved to the foyer. I thought waking up to Harvey lit by the eerie blue TV glow (because the kid tunes stay on all night) might be a night terror in the makings. Jack was not happy, but he agreed to let Harvey “decorate the foyer” at night.
I didn’t consider me being creeped out by Harvey. I have a very active imagination. I know you’re shocked, right? I’m all about assigning personalities to inanimate objects. Unfortunately, if the inanimate object has a face, I will unfailingly make its personality evil. Not having girl children is a good thing for me. If I had a house full of baby dolls and barbies I’d be a total basket case. What’s that you say? Oh no, I’m not a TOTAL basket case yet. Suffice it to say, when I turned off the lamp in the foyer before bed, I got completely skeeved out by Harvey’s button-blank stare and overlarge gloved hands. I had to run to my room and slam the door. Okay, I am a total basket case.
In the light of morning, as Harvey hangs out in the living room watching Phineas and Ferb, he goes back to being a cheerful straw-stuffed ornament. Mostly. Sometimes I swear those button eyes are ever so slightly narrowed and those giant hands are straining to reach out for my babies’ necks.