James has some interesting eccentricities. One of them is a fear of things that most people would not be afraid of. Weird things like fuzz, (aka: Walking fuzz: due to the ability of dusty bunnies to move when a little gust of air wafts past them) hair that is no longer attached to someone's head, (this includes his own hair - hair cuts are a blast) and toys. Toys like stuffed animals and action figures. Maybe it stems from too many cartoons and movies about toys that come to life. Toy Story I, II and III come to mind. (Darn you, Walt Disney) He cannot stand to sleep with anything like this in his room. Don't misunderstand, though. He will play with them during the day, but when the sun goes down, they are instantly and with extreme prejudice, banished from his room and the vicinity near his room. Frequently I will walk into my own room and trip over anywhere from 7 to 16 stuffed pandas, lions, bears, and an assortment of other seemingly benign toys that have been ejected from his room and tossed, haphazardly, through the door of my unlit bedroom, until the sun rises the next morning. Occasionally there will be that bonus toy on the floor that has more angles than Pythagorean theorem and sharper edges than Goliath Tigerfish's dental anatomy. Yeah, that guy down there. Incidentally, Goliath has been known to eat crocodiles and humans. Pardon me while I cancel my upcoming river safari trip to the Congo.
Though I find this habit annoying, I've become somewhat accustomed to it, however; every once in awhile he pulls something out of left field that catches me off guard. Sometimes the surprise is more than a little unsettling. Take tonight for example: we spent most of the day out and about and came home after dark. When we got home it was time for James to get a shower and brush his teeth and prepare for bed. I turned on the water in the shower and adjusted it to a temperature he is comfortable with (frostbite falls). I went to the linen closet and grabbed him a towel and a wash cloth. I noticed that the bar of soap in his shower was getting a little small so I opened the bathroom supply closet to retrieve a new bar of Coast for him. I nearly inhaled my tongue and had a simultaneous cardiac event, when I opened the door.
It couldn't have been a simple stuffed teddy bear or perhaps his Spider Man action figure laying in there. No it had to be Walter. And of course Walter was in a sitting in that awkward position, looked all freaking freaked out, like he just saw one of those 8 inch Bird spiders or perhaps Satan himself was hanging out in there with him or something equally unpleasant. Well played, James. Very well played. You indeed startled about 3 years of life out of your mom. Good one, son. Thanks for that.
But then, he also needed a bottle of shampoo, which was hanging out on the shelf below our friend, Walter.
Oh look, Twidget is in there keeping Walter company. Maybe this is why poor Walter looked so skeeved out. That annoying purple idiot was probably in there making hours and hours of nasally, indecipherable, yammering small talk that earned him the second place title (directly behind the Teletubbies) for most homicidal tendency evoking fictional character of the 21st Century. I would probably have the exact same expression on my face if I were locked up all night with that hideous twirly eared creeper.
So for all my friends and family who wonder why I'm not quite right in the head and frequently look like I'm teetering on the precipice of needing to be committed to an institution or in desperate need of a nap, this is just one of the many daily occurrences in my life that contributes to the "Insanity Effect".
And this has been your glimpse into the zoo for today. Have a lovely week.
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