Hard To Choose Just One

The wackiest birthday gift. Let me think. Let me see. Was it the dinosaur bone or the fake monkey’s knee? It is possibly the canned antelope tongue I got last November, Then again, what about the blue hyena’s eye that arrived in December? The caged fluffy St. Bernards were truthfully a giant surprise. And then there was the time they boxed up a Las Vegas sunrise. My six daughters are full of terrific ideas, you see. They were raised crazy and goofy, not at all unlike me. Alice was talking to me yesterday on my pink Princess phone. She said, I think the wackiest was the hand-painted Irish trombone. Then Betty called. “What about the circus elephant? He was fun! The best part of that gift, was that he made your snooty neighbor run.” The lacy red forty-six double D bra I got from my Aunt Smuggly Tall? I was eleven years old, flat as an ironing board, and had no chest at all. I think my wackiest gift was a green-eyed Cheshire Cat with a twitch. Lively, and fast, she comes alive in the night, turning on her own switch.