A trip to the pediatrician on monday excavated a long dormant memory. I was a young man of five playing at a friends house. Just as my mother came to pick me up, a chunk of Fisher Price Plastic was removed from the toy closet and playing commenced. Just long enough for me to realize I was in the presence of the greatest toy I had ever seen. The cow went moo when you pressed the lever! Then, just as the holy grail of plastic crap revealed itself, it was time to go. I had a complete meltdown. I can remember how upset I was when I was unable to play with this toy, I think inconsolable, crying so hard I was probably incoherent. Thirty one odd years later, as we waited for the pediatrician to administer shots to our baby, I looked at the toy basket and saw this:
Angels wept, horns sounded, heavenly glow emanated. There it was. The cow barn thing. The source of a dredged memory meltdown. The lever even sort of worked. It blurps "Mo". Joy joy.
It is much smaller than I remember it.
One Step Forward, Three Steps Back?
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