So I was talking to my mom, who is in the midst of preparing for a garage sale, and she’s like, “So I was going through your stuffed animals…”

EVIL!

“The black and white whale?” She says.

“Shamu?” I gasp.  “No!”

“The Hershey’s Kiss,” she continues, ignoring my outrage.

“But you sent away for that!” I protest.

“Big Wrinkles“

“No.  No way,” I tell her, all joking aside.  “Absolutely not.”

See, she knows better than this.  Little Wrinkles (much like the Wrinkles here ((same dress!)) but grey) was my most favorite ever stuffed animal!  (Not that I told my other stuffed animals that, but she knew…) and Big Wrinkles was a close second.*

So we argued for awhile, and I told her in no uncertain terms that Big Wrinkles was to stay.  In exchange, I told her she could get rid of Shamu, Big Snoopy, Hershey’s Kiss, and a couple of dolls.  Just so long as Big Wrinkles was safe.

In retrospect, I wonder if she had ever intended on getting rid of him, or if she was just using him as leverage to get rid of the others, knowing that I would do about anything to save him.  The woman is diabolical, I tell you.

* Yes, I actually named them “Big Wrinkles” and “Little Wrinkles” because one was big and one was small.  I am, perhaps, the most uncreative person ever when it comes to naming things.  I also had a goldfish named Goldy and a black cat named Midnight.  The exception to this is a balloon I named Mary Benson.  I’m not sure where the Mary came from, but I’m pretty sure the Benson was from the TV show.  Why I wasted my most creative name on a balloon, I couldn’t tell you.