As my parents-in-law prepare to make their move to the coast (and don't think we haven't thought about how best to smuggle ourselves there in their suitcases, because we have), they have begun the daunting task of packing up their current home, where they have lived for twenty-plus years. This has led to a number of things migrating from the archives of the Tillman (Sr.) household to our apartment. This is mostly a good thing -- we've gotten some pictures and other treasures that come from Ian's grandma's house, or from Ian's own childhood, and it is wonderful to have these objects to connect us to our family and our past. I must admit, however, that I view
this fellow joining our household as somewhat of a tragedy. It is an action figure from the
Alien movies, and I have mistaken its scaly brown tail for a real-live snake or lizard on more than one occasion. It is both gross and scary, and I would be discreetly smuggling it out to a new, bright future in the apartment dumpster as we speak, except for one thing ...
...Max loves it.
Loves it. It is Superman's new favorite nemesis, and it growls at me frequently from the safety of my delighted son's fist. While I could heartlessly rid myself of this heirloom and face down the adults involved in its infiltration of my happiness without a twinge of conscience, I cannot quite deprive my innocent child of a toy that he loves without a solid foundation of reason. If anyone would like to send me an article proving that
Alien action figures are well-known choking hazards, or are made with lead paint, however, I would be thrilled to receive the information.
As my parents-in-law prepare to make their move to the coast (and don't think we haven't thought about how best to smuggle ourselves there in their suitcases, because we have), they have begun the daunting task of packing up their current home, where they have lived for twenty-plus years. This has led to a number of things migrating from the archives of the Tillman (Sr.) household to our apartment. This is mostly a good thing -- we've gotten some pictures and other treasures that come from Ian's grandma's house, or from Ian's own childhood, and it is wonderful to have these objects to connect us to our family and our past. I must admit, however, that I view this fellow joining our household as somewhat of a tragedy. It is an action figure from the Alien movies, and I have mistaken its scaly brown tail for a real-live snake or lizard on more than one occasion. It is both gross and scary, and I would be discreetly smuggling it out to a new, bright future in the apartment dumpster as we speak, except for one thing ...
...Max loves it. Loves it. It is Superman's new favorite nemesis, and it growls at me frequently from the safety of my delighted son's fist. While I could heartlessly rid myself of this heirloom and face down the adults involved in its infiltration of my happiness without a twinge of conscience, I cannot quite deprive my innocent child of a toy that he loves without a solid foundation of reason. If anyone would like to send me an article proving that Alien action figures are well-known choking hazards, or are made with lead paint, however, I would be thrilled to receive the information.
2 comments:
all I could come up with was http://www.alientoysmakekidssmarter.gov/andtheawesomedadsthatpassedthemon/creepyactionfiguresrule.asp
:-( If you're not part of the solution, Mike, you're part of the problem.
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