It’s been a traumatic 24 hours. Yesterday my 6-year-old had the honour of bringing home the Stuffed Animal mascot of her class. You know the drill – you wait all year to be the Chosen One, then you get to bring home the Stuffed Animal, take somewhat competitive photos of Stuffed Animal enjoying your family’s exciting life (here’s Stuffed Animal on a kayak … at the circus … going skydiving…) At the end of the week your child documents the Adventures of Stuffed Animal, and Stuffed Animal moves on to the next lucky host.
So, yesterday we got the Stuffed Animal, otherwise known as Slither the Snake. Slither played in the garden. Slither cooked some sausages and mashed some potatoes. Then – big mistake – Slither came for an evening bike ride. The kids rode (I jogged) for a few blocks. We checked to see how Slither was enjoying himself. You know where this is going. We Lost The Stuffed Animal.
Slither’s last ride.
We retraced our path with a torch. Mummy did it again after bedtime with a bigger torch. And again at first light. Slither has clearly been found by a lover of furry green snakes and taken to a new home.
This morning we posted signs up and down the street (seriously) and wrote a long and horribly apologetic note about why Slither wasn’t going to be flying to Sydney with the teacher this holiday (seriously). I went online to find out whether Slither might have gone to visit his friends in a toy shop and might possibly be encouraged to come back to us for a small fee. (Or even a large fee.) I discovered, not very helpfully, that Slither was made in Shanghai and his brethren can be purchased wholesale in minimum quantities of 2,500.
But it’s OK… after a number of desperate emails, we have discovered that Slither will be visiting a certain online toy shop in a couple of weeks. Cue MUCH RELIEF.
If you’re reading this Slither… please come home.