A small box showed up in my mailbox yesterday - an Easter present from my parents. In it were these little Smurfs. That might seem like an odd present for a 36 year old but there's a story behind these little guys.
When I was young,
The Smurfs cartoon was very popular and I had a few of the little plastic figurines of the show's characters. My favorite was a little Baby Smurf figurine and I remember carrying it around with me everywhere I went.
The house we lived in at the time had a basement and there was a stairwell in the garage that led down to it. It was very dark and spidery so it scared me to go down there and I avoided it at all costs. My sister and I usually got along great but, as a big sister, she was required to torture me sometimes. (Can you see where this story is leading?) When she got mad at me, she would take my Baby Smurf and throw it down the stairwell. If I was lucky, it didn't fall all the way to the bottom and I did retrieve it several times though I was absolutely terrified about being down there. This little game gave her a lot of power over me, I'm sure. One day, she threw it into the deepest, darkest corner and I just didn't have the courage to go get it. I was heartbroken but also too afraid of Colleen to tell my parents what she had done so the Smurf stayed there. Eventually, we moved away and I never saw my beloved Smurf again.
My parents didn't hear that story until I was an adult and I think they felt bad that they couldn't have helped me battle my evil big sister back then.
Thanks a lot Mom and Dad! It's not my Baby Smurf but I love that you thought of me and sent me some little blue friends to help heal my broken heart...
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