Bear and Boots

I have a small but interesting collection of old baby boots/shoes.

 I am so drawn to the story of who they belonged to.

Though I'll never know, I am satisfied with the images I have created in my mind 

of the sweet toddler or two that slipped these on and had a life long, long ago.

They are being worn by my shaggy bear, along with a vintage baby's linen nightshirt.

He amuses me as he sits atop a brass hanger.

He's safe from Sophie up there.

His name?

Nemesis.

Sophie has been on a quest to tear him to shreds for years.

The girl is a stalker.

No, LuLu.

(Her name is Sophia Lucia Ricardo- she goes by a few names.)

Do you like a little whimsy in your home?

You'll find lots of it here!

Sharing with Revisionary Life HERE

Rooted In Thyme HERE

The Answer

 "Do I have any clean underwear?" says Magoo.

I stare at him for a moment and wonder how it is possible that he would think

that he lives in a world where he would have no clean underwear.

Seriously?

How did this irrational fear develop?  

Why is his drawer so full that I can't stuff another pair of his man undies in there if I tried?  

Oh, how I've tried.

I cleaned out his drawers and tossed out the oldies...the meltdown wasn't pretty.

Obviously the trauma was too much.

How can I expect him to feel safe and secure in his world with only 62 pairs to his name?

I have found the answer. 

This amuses me to no end.  Him, not so much.

If you also have a hubby with this disorder, you can find these thru Archie McPhee.

I'm ordering our friend Siggy for him, too.

The ONLY action figure that peers into the depths of your subconscious.

Time for an intervention.