A Tale of Two Monkeys

"You can get the monkey off your back, but the circus never leaves town" — Anne Lamott

Monkey is a fixture in this house. He doesn't have a name, other than Monkey of course, and is mostly just interested in conversations with Millie. Out of all the dozens of stuffed animals piled in baskets and squished into boxes in her room, Millie's loyalty lies with the first one Sky and I ever got her. In fact, Monkey was around about halfway through my pregnancy with her, and has been her best friend forever.

Exhibit A-
Millie, one month old, with her pal

Because this friendly animal has been necessary for every bedtime, naptime, and playtime since the history of time, I decided to be an amazing mother and get her a second, spare monkey in case one is in the washer too long or gets left behind on one of her adventures. It was a genius move, and I patted myself on the back for it as I set Monkey the Second on a dresser, out of sight.

It sat there for days. And then suddenly, one afternoon, it wasn't out of sight anymore. Millie breezed into my room, seemed to make a beeline straight for it, and pointed. "What's that?" I cringed.

She had it off the dresser and into her arms with Monkey the First before I could catch my breath.

My glorious parenting moment was crumpled up and tossed as she took the two monkeys for a ride in her car/cardboard box. She flung them up in the air, she hugged them both tight, and she seemed to think that the only thing better in the world than one monkey was two. She was nearly out of her mind with excitement.

I began calculating how much it would cost to buy two more to replace these two. I pictured an entire house full of monkeys as she would begin to find them around the house, and insist that she needed 348 monkeys to play with all at once. A cold sweat washed over me.

And just then, my dad walked in to take us to dinner. I told him how I wasn't a great mother that day. He managed to slip Monkey the Second away, hide it underneath a pillow, and tell an inquiring Millie that the other monkey had "gone on vacation". She asked about it the rest of that evening, but she's been quiet about it since. If I didn't believe in miracles before, I surely do now.

The moral of the story? Don't try to be parent of the year. You'll only end up buying dozens of monkeys, or calling for a better parent to come rescue you before it's too late.