The Fuzz

My daughter Evelyn is addicted to stuffed animals. She buries her face in them, then comes up with a huge smile. It's really funny, especially when you elaborate she herself has a "doll body" (hands and feet look screwed on from the rolls of chunk on her baby frame), and that she growls loudly instead of cooing. 

This afternoon in Barnes & Noble, however, it was no laughing matter. I basically had to drag her out (tried to get her to walk holding my hand, but she wouldn't have it), SCREAMING at the top of her lungs because I would not let her partake of what she probably saw as a stuffed animal buffet; doll after doll within reach before her in heavenly display. I'm pretty sure at least two penguins, a Wonder Pet, a dolphin and a monkey ended up wet from snacking while I tried to make sure her brother was alright. 

We won't be going unless she is in her stroller from now on. Ugh, it was awful. Then she tried to climb out of the cart, also screaming, in the store later when we passed another stuffed animal buffet. Maybe she'll be a pet advocate or veterinarian when she grows up!