We’ve been going through a MAJOR decluttering purge recently.
I can’t even believe some of the things we’ve unearthed that I’d totally forgotten about.
Old photos, like this gem that greeted me one 1990 morning after my crazy coworkers blew up to poster-size and captioned it:
And old clothing, like my junior prom dress, which now fits my daughter and looks pretty fantastic on her:
AND then, this devilish bear…..
I bought it as a funny Valentine’s Day gift for my hubby ages ago, before we ever had children. Back when we had a romantic life and did stuff like that. If you press his hand, a rendition of Elvis Presley’s “Hunk of Burning Love” begins playing and he bounces up and down. Our oldest child is 17, so this thing has to be close to 20 years old. But, it still works!
And I’ve heard “Hunk’a hunk’a burnin’ love” about 8,467 times this week. And I’m not even an Elvis fan.
I’m kind’a hatin’ hatin’ myself for buying this thing. But in my defense, it was pre-kids! And who knew it would come back to haunt me?
What’s been funny are ALL the questions from the younger three kids. (The eldest just chuckled, shook his head and walked away.)
“Why did you get a bear that looks like the devil?”
“Why does the heart say ‘burnin’ love’?”
“Why is the heart all yellow and old?”
“What does ‘Hunk of burning love” even MEAN?”
“Why did you buy this for DAD?”
Eli, my middle son and prankster extraordinaire, has made it a game to sneak up behind me and press the bear’s hand because he knows that song is about to drive me bat-poop bonkers.
(I’m ’bout to turn into a Hunk’a Burnin’ Wrath if he keeps it up!)
But I can’t toss it, because this little guy has decided that he LOVES him.
Gee, it would be a shame if little Satan’s batteries went missing or something, wouldn’t it?