Do you know that I have an entire monkey troupe in my home? An entire extended monkey family! Let me count them in my head…after the three we got this week, the count stands at ten. Ten monkeys. And they’re all Munchkin’s.
When she was a littler munchkin, she bonded to a couple of similar-looking (of course) stuffed monkeys. One was a monkey that Husband got me for Valentine’s Day when we were still dating. The other one I picked up on a whim at the mall when we still lived in North Dakota. (I admit: I like monkeys, too.) When Munchkin came along, I naturally just gave most of my stuffed animal collection to her, and those are the ones she liked the most. Now she needs to sleep with one of them, and when she wakes up at night upset, she cries for it: “Monkey! Monkey!”
Well, we all thought this was cute. Munchkin became known as a monkey girl. And as an unfortunate side effect of living more than a thousand miles from either of our families, no one knows what to get her for her birthday or Christmas. So more often than not, it’s something monkey related. And it’s starting to add up.
Don’t get me wrong: she’s lovin’ it. How can she not? But geez. I feel like they’re going to gang up on me and torture me while she sleeps. I wonder how long it’ll be before they stage a revolt and take over the house.