Friday, June 3, 2011

Dr. Auntie J, DSVM

Ever since we watched Disney's The Great Mouse Detective on our way to Gramma and Boppa's house a week ago, Medium Fry has been asking where "her" big doggie is.

Toby, who used to belong to my oldest nephew, is a big plush basset hound, the namesake of said character in The Great Mouse Detective.  And he now belongs to Small Fry.

I unearthed a big stuffed beagle from Hubby's childhood days and gave him to Medium Fry so that she would have a big doggie too.  At first, he was also Toby.  These days, he answers to Bruno, the name of the faithful hound in Cinderella.

However, Medium being a small child, and thus doing small-child things like sticking fingers in holes found in stuffed animals, discovered a split in the seam on poor Bruno's back.  And soon widened it.

I confiscated Bruno.

Followed quickly by confiscating the matching Portuguese Water Dogs from the Build-a-Bear Factory that belong to the twins, who had apparently not been zipped up tight enough for toddler hands.  They were open now along the back seam, where their stuffing went in.

And there were two frogs, from my brother.  Small Fry's had a loose-ish nose marking, a simple stitch of triple-strand embroidery floss.  No doubt it was "helped" along in the loosening by Small Fry herself.  Medium's frog had half a nose, because she'd pulled out one of the two strands.  And a hole along the seam of the patch on the frog's belly.  (What can you expect for $5?)

Plus a smaller stuffed frog of unknown origin but actually green in color (the other two were pink and purple, with embossed flowers in the fabric), suffering almost half a decapitation.

And, of course, Medium's little tiger and his aortic dissection (of sorts).

I pulled out my sewing kit, because I promised Medium at bedtime last night that I would fix her tiger.  And Bruno.

And since I'm "operating" on two, might as well fix 'em all.  I unearthed my sewing kit and got to work after the kids were in bed.

I felt the need to mutter something to myself about "Camp Patch-'Em-Up," and debated a Facebook status post with that reference, but not many people would get my rather vague M*A*S*H reference.

I can't help it if dialogue sticks with me.  But that's another story.


After I returned these poor stuffed friends to their proper owners late last night, I proceeded to crash.  I do not remember Hubby coming to bed.  Despite my griping ankle, I hauled myself out of bed and staggimped (staggered + limped) down the hall for my morning constitutional, trailed by Large Fry.  (Hubby being sick, I was charged with getting her on the bus.)  While in there, not tending to personal business alone, the twin Fries woke up.  As I'm washing my hands, Small and Medium appear in the bathroom doorway...arms overloaded with their mended friends.

Small happily squeals my name, grinning from ear to ear.  "You fixed dem!  Tankoo!"

I only wish I'd brought my phone to the bathroom with me, so I could have snapped a shot of her happy face and overflowing-with-friends arms.

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