Sure, at first, this seems a little odd. But when your toddling superdaughter, who's only just recently been indoctrinated in all things Claus, tells the fat man that the only thing she wants for Christmas is a "purple [fucking] lamb," the quest for said mythical creature will consume your weekend.
You'll travel to multiple toy stores, all over town, repeatedly amazed at how incredibly lame the stuffed animal selection is. Irony, it seems, is that the demand for lambs of any sort is so low, that even compensation-sucking commercial demigods like Toys R' Us flip you the proverbial bird when you come crawling to them, begging for help.
So what do we do? Personal pride mandates that if I tell a big, whopping lie along the lines of "a jolly man in a red suit who travels with the aid of magical flying reindeer will bring you lots of presents," then my daughter will believe it. For real. I cannot, therefore, fail to make good on the promise that Santa made -- at the mall, without consulting me first -- when my darling E asked him for the aforementioned violet farm animal. "Lies father!" She'd scream, as she stormed out of the room, her tears falling upon a discarded Hello Kitty Karaoke set, now worthless in her eyes. "I've fallen victim to the most heinous rouse, you bastard!" Merry. Fuckin'. Christmas.
Fortunately, finally, while shopping for someone else, we stumbled upon the lamb you saw above, moments before his/her death. That lamb was post-humusly dyed purple by Lady-A. Not that she didn't feel guilty about it.
As a parting shot, my sister and my dad were out shopping in Cleveland the same day, and -- along with a little help from Mr. Interweb -- found two lambs that might also satisfy E's craving for impossibly pigmented four-legged creatures. I'm thinking of giving her all three lambs, thus somehow proving that Santa loves her the most of all the world's children. God forbid she ever asks for a pony.
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posted by Jonathon Morgan at 9:15 AM
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