Why I Think Glue (and dry cleaners) Are Really Super

     Joshua sure does love his plastic farm animals.  He likes to group them and have them make noises and walk them in and out of his barn. And I really can't blame him, because I really like my farm animals too. 

     I have (or had) three of them.  A miniature ceramic cow and a sheep.  The most recent addition is a larger white duck that sits outside on our sidewalk (whereas the cow & sheep reside on our entertainment center).  No one ever comments on my farm animals despite the fact that they are always dressed for the appropriate occasion and, more often then not, coordinating with each other.  The cow and sheep are irreplaceable only in that I happened upon both of them for sale at the same bargain store, different times, for the cost of $1.  If they had a pig, I would have bought that one too.  They're irreplaceable though because I just can't imagine my luck striking once again to find the same ceramic box with a (different) animal at the bargain discount store.  The goose was more premeditated.  It started on a trip to Florida where my mother and I just couldn't get over the fact that a lady had a goose dressed in a raincoat sitting on her front lawn.  We drove by another day later in our trip and the goose was wearing a different outfit.  Years later, I just had to have that goose (or duck, I'm not picky).  Luckily my mom picked up on the hints and found one for me.  I knew it could be trouble.  Afterall, it's ceramic and it sits on a cement walkway..

     Why do I like my farm animals so much?  Maybe it's because I don't have a girl to dress up.  Or maybe it's because my farm animals don't fight back or voice opinions ("No Melmo shirt!").  Maybe it's because I'm an Elementary School teacher so I like cute things like dressed up farm animals.  Whatever, just don't begrudge me this little joy that I get seasonally as I change their clothes from St. Patrick's Day frock to Easter Bunny suit.  I even dress them up for Halloween (the cow is usually a ballerina, the sheep is usually at a luau despite the cool temperatures and the goose dresses as a witch).

     I let Joshua and Liam help me dress up the animals, which may be my downfall.  Afterall, they are used to plastic farm animals and ceramic ones are a bit more delicate.  So tonight as Liam was dressing the duck in his Uncle Sam Hat ("Mommy, why do all of the duck's hats have beards?"), I was a little concerned but too careless to think much of anything.  But when Liam said uh-oh on his way out the door, I knew it would be trouble.  Of course, the sadness I felt didn't quite compare to the look of panic in poor Bill's eyes when he went to investigate.  See, Bill probably hates that duck. I can't imagine a man would have any interest in having a duck on his sidewalk dressed for the seasons.  I'm pretty sure he thinks it's lame.  Either that or he doesn't even notice it's there.  But Bill does know that I am emotional and that I cling to silly little things.  He remembers how sad I was when I put my new wooden cutting board into the dishwasher and part of it broke off.  And so it was. The duck was separated from his pedestal and one of his legs came off.  Perhaps most problematic is that he has a hole in his belly.  We salvaged the pieces but the outlook looks grim.
     And this is when I get really sad, and pitiful and say, "I can't have anything nice."  I lost my super-cool Camelback water bottle at a meeting the other day. The boys experimented with my Victoria's Secret perfume (high class, I know).  A waitress spilled coffee on the new dress I had treated myself to at Bill's work Christmas party,   My yoga balls have both been deflated (one seriously punctured).  I left the new tea kettle boiling so long it ran out of water and started to burn off its own coating.  I left my Havarti cheese in my lunch box overnight so I had to throw the rest away.  Pity me.
     But then I remember... the dry cleaner got that coffee stain out of my dress.  Bill glued the cutting board back together and (assuming I don't put it in the dishwasher again) all is well.  It takes me years to go through a bottle of perfume so there's still plenty left in the bottle.  And that ceramic cow?  It's leg has been fractured twice.  And both times I've fixed it with superglue.  Isn't that what superglue is for?  Fixing up our stuff so we can continue on having nice, if not flawed, things for ourselves.