I had never been to a store that would make me crave sterility. It’s fun; try it if you get a chance. And by fun, I mean a blister on your inner eyelid would seem like an amusement park ride.
Alyssa and I entered the store hand-in-hand (I love me a cute cousin) and met our first nemesis – a long line comprised of consumer culture loyalists. My 4.0 GPA past did not need to be revived on this journey into bear headquarters, as bold signs hanging from the ceiling guided us on a step-by-step process from unstuffed animal to diminished bank account. All of these navigational pointers were separated by smaller signs that read, “Give Hugs.” Right.
CHOOSE ME
Alyssa spotted (read: picked up and hugged tightly, smiling ear to ear) an unstuffed dog and I commended her on her fiscal selection - $12.
As we slowly progressed in line, we were taunted by other unstuffed options in bins lining the wall we grazed along. Alyssa quickly fell out of love with the unstuffed dog and rebounded with a $20 unstuffed polar bear.
“You know,” I said, “if you get the dog instead of the polar bear, you can get an extra accessory (they dress these crazy gimmicks).”
Alyssa heeded my subtle wisdom, but it wasn’t long before she revealed to me that she just looooooved the polar bear. As you wish. Your dad’s paying, so who am I to really push you in either direction. Financially minded older cousins rain on children’s parades.
I called my mom who was browsing in Chico’s, an establishment that ensures a woman’s right to wear reversible clothing. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I believe the words “rescue me” came across clearly, because she showed up shortly thereafter. My mom looked at me and my deer in the headlights gaze and said, “Oh, Honey…” She rubbed my back and then said she was going to see if anything was on sale at The Gap. “Mom…….”
HEAR ME
Next stop was a station where you could select a heartbeat for your unstuffed animal, pulsations ranging from $3 - $8. Some beats allow the owner to record their voice on the device that promises life (total crock).
I didn’t even have to say anything. Sharp Alyssa told me that she could live with the complimentary non-beating heart that comes with each animal at a later station.
As we waited to approach the next station, I looked around at all of the stuffed animals on shelves around the Build-A-Bear Workshop – some wild, some tame – and seriously considered becoming a vegetarian. There were ponies in pink suede boots that bore a disturbing resemblance to Ugz footwear, a monkey dressed like Mrs. Claus, and a sheep in denim pants and a silver plush ski jacket. How would you feel?
While we were there, a birthday party was taking place, the finality of which included a processional of the kids holding their newly stuffed (and fluffed, and dressed) bears on top of their heads repeating in unison, in a monotone voice, “Look at my bear. Look at my bear.” Over and over again. What is this, the Hitler youth brigade?
STUFF ME
Alyssa and I then made it to the most desirable destination, the place where unstuffed animals come as close to life as fabric allows. Alyssa played a role in the physical expansion of her new polar bear friend by pressing a foot lever that sent stuffing material shooting into the toy.
Alyssa spotted (read: picked up and hugged tightly, smiling ear to ear) an unstuffed dog and I commended her on her fiscal selection - $12.
As we slowly progressed in line, we were taunted by other unstuffed options in bins lining the wall we grazed along. Alyssa quickly fell out of love with the unstuffed dog and rebounded with a $20 unstuffed polar bear.
“You know,” I said, “if you get the dog instead of the polar bear, you can get an extra accessory (they dress these crazy gimmicks).”
Alyssa heeded my subtle wisdom, but it wasn’t long before she revealed to me that she just looooooved the polar bear. As you wish. Your dad’s paying, so who am I to really push you in either direction. Financially minded older cousins rain on children’s parades.
I called my mom who was browsing in Chico’s, an establishment that ensures a woman’s right to wear reversible clothing. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I believe the words “rescue me” came across clearly, because she showed up shortly thereafter. My mom looked at me and my deer in the headlights gaze and said, “Oh, Honey…” She rubbed my back and then said she was going to see if anything was on sale at The Gap. “Mom…….”
HEAR MENext stop was a station where you could select a heartbeat for your unstuffed animal, pulsations ranging from $3 - $8. Some beats allow the owner to record their voice on the device that promises life (total crock).
I didn’t even have to say anything. Sharp Alyssa told me that she could live with the complimentary non-beating heart that comes with each animal at a later station.
As we waited to approach the next station, I looked around at all of the stuffed animals on shelves around the Build-A-Bear Workshop – some wild, some tame – and seriously considered becoming a vegetarian. There were ponies in pink suede boots that bore a disturbing resemblance to Ugz footwear, a monkey dressed like Mrs. Claus, and a sheep in denim pants and a silver plush ski jacket. How would you feel?
While we were there, a birthday party was taking place, the finality of which included a processional of the kids holding their newly stuffed (and fluffed, and dressed) bears on top of their heads repeating in unison, in a monotone voice, “Look at my bear. Look at my bear.” Over and over again. What is this, the Hitler youth brigade?
STUFF ME
Alyssa and I then made it to the most desirable destination, the place where unstuffed animals come as close to life as fabric allows. Alyssa played a role in the physical expansion of her new polar bear friend by pressing a foot lever that sent stuffing material shooting into the toy.
We weren’t done though; we had to collect our complimentary heart. We couldn’t just place the heart into the polar bear. No no. We had to endure a “heart ceremony.” The woman operating the stuffing machine told Alyssa to rub the heart on her tummy so the polar bear never goes hungry, to rub it on her forehead so it should be wise – oops, Alyssa dropped the heart on the floor – continue on with rubbing the heart on different parts of her face for noble reasons as older cousin is horrified of the lapse in sanitation and fears a rash. Heart ceremony complete, and in it goes.
FLUFF METhis is the station for primping your now stuffed animal and making sure it looks its best. At this point my 27 year old sister joined us – nothing left to consider at Banana Republic – and advised Alyssa to not fluff too hard because the stitching could come undone. Poor kid now prone to family neuroses. Story of my life.
My sister aptly captured what any chemically balanced person would have desired in such circumstances. “I need a Xanax.”
DRESS MEDress a polar bear because its own skin isn’t capable of keeping it warm in Connecticut. The polar bear must have a gold jacket complete with a hood and an evening bag. These suckers get a wardrobe that I’m envious of. So not fair.
TAKE ME HOMEJust before approaching the register, Alyssa and her polar bear sat down at a computer to register the waste of money and give it a name, the “pawfect” name.
As Snowball was being rung up, Alyssa grabbed a big cardboard house for him to go in. “Excuse me,” I said to the cashier. “Does that cost extra??”
At least we ended on a happy $40 note. Did I mention that I love my cousin tremendously?
