Happiness Horror Story: The Too-Tall Teddy Bear

by:FLOS     2020-08-04
'Your difference is your strength, and your strength is your gift around the world.'
My daughter Azalea, an elementary schooled, is very sweet and a shining example of the values I drill into her: the AIR Equation, the 3-part formula which states that Happiness = Acceptance + Inspiration + Respect. Born and raised in a neighborhood full of ex-cons and Type-A athletes, I struggle at times on what's the right mixture of sweetness on her.
My wife says our daughter has a loving softness to her. 'Too loving,' many admirers say, some who don't know her from Eve as they simply reluctantly undo her hug of their necks. 'Watch her. She's too kind to strangers.' She accepts and befriends everyone: whites, blacks, the popular, misfits, bullies, the bullied, tall, short, girls, boys, the geeks, the meek. That's Azalea, like her namesake plant that flowers in dry soil, looking to spread happiness in the most infertile places. This is the reason why what she does later is so horrifying.
It's Sunday. I'm reading the newspaper in my reclining love seat while she plays on the living room floor. I relive childhood through my two kids every daytime. The warm fuzzies get me as I in order to her talk for her dolls and act significantly grown-up to them as she plays parent, teacher, or cashier.
Like a spy I covertly peel back the newspaper, turning my head so that my eye is the first thing to ease into dream. Her dolls sit in rows in a make-believe classroom with invisible desks and a wood-panel chalkboard which is our lounge wall. Barbie teaches classroom. Soon, Azalea rolls her toy Volkswagen Bus into the school and instructs the dolls on where by sitting. She probably doesn't realize she's letting the cuter ones on to begin with.
My cartoonist side notices this right away, how characters are made cuter by giving them an extraordinarily small nose (or none at all) like the Bratz doll in forward seat and Hello Kitty peeking through the side window. Her favorite doll, a teddy bear, towers over everyone--even the school bus. I return to the Real Estate section.
I hear grunting staying kid pushing a tight Tinkertoy in place. I smile at her budding determination and relax to travel article photo.
Azalea's grunting morphs into growling. Suddenly, I hear her banging on ground with such ferocity that i can feel the vibrations with the love seat. I make sure that her. She's vividly unhappy, body slamming her favorite teddy bear!
I dash to her. 'Why are you beating him?'
'He doesn't need to play with me anymore. I want him to ride with us but he won't observe. He won't get all the way inside.'
'He's too tall to fit while.'
Without warning, she lunges for the bear. She grunts and stuffs him in with traditional sour cream party tongue-out-to-the-side earnest view in staged pictures of hard-working kids but rarely see in real each day. He's in thigh-high and seems set ongoing no further. She pries the bear out and marches him to your kitchen trash can.
I run to overcome her there. 'He can't help his size. Don't beat him up for it. He really wants to play with you.' I figure out an angle for that AIR Equation. 'Hey, you know how Daddy gets lost and uses his GPS system in a vehicle?'
She nods and wipes a tear from her red face.
I point in the ceiling. 'It foretells a big satellite in the sky that can see where I'm headed and tell me the best method of getting where I will need to go. Well, your teddy bear can manage the same thing for you plus your friends. Put him on the roof where he could be at his best, able to see what others can't and save all of you from getting vanish.'
The red drains from her face as if her opening smiling mouth is a release valve. She pulls the bear into her bosom, giving him her patented hug around the neck.
I read playboy magazine section now. Azalea drives her dolls around the condominium. Her teddy bear sits like a guru on the roof. She asks him how to get somewhere because she's never been down this road before, as well as instructs her.
Another happy ending,
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