When I was about four years old my mom and my older half sister, Janet, and I went grocery shopping at Price Club. In an attempt to keep my quiet they shoved a huge plushie sheep into my arms. I started talking to the sheep and named her Razelda. My mom and my sister were AMAZED at the name I had come up with and asked me where I got it. I kept telling them I read it on the boxes high above my head. They would turn and look at the boxes over and over again--- hello? Had they forgotten I didn't know how to read?! I wouldn't learn to read til I was 7!
We didn't have a lot of money to spend on things that were non-essentials but I had to have Razelda. She had no price tag, and Janet contacted people that worked at the store-- to no avail, there wasn't another woolen friend anywhere in the store and they didn't know where she came from. Razelda had a ribbon collar and a beautiful name. Did we pay for her? I am not sure, I suppose at some "mark down" price.
Razelda soon became a permanent fixture in my heart and in my made up songs:
Razelda, Razelda, the wonderful lamb! Razelda, Razelda, doing the best that she can!
There were a lot more doggerel verses were that came from.
Fast forward some 22 years later.
Razelda now lives in my parents house and is played with by my nephew and nieces. I don't mind that they play with her, I sort of think Razelda likes to be useful.
When Elena (7) took Razelda to her father, my older brother, he said to her, "Oh my! Do you know who this is?" and began to sing Razelda's song. My niece's eyes got wide and upon completion of the tune she informed her father he was crazy.
As she walked toward me with my childhood friend, I explained that the sheep's name was Razelda.
"No," Elena told me, "This is Mary-had-a-little-lamb."
"No," I persisted, "That is MY sheep, RAZELDA! I've had her since I was your sister's age-- that means I've owned her for 22 years!"
"You're too old for a sheep," Elena said pointing out the error of my ways.
I proved my maturity and age as I stole my lamb back. Mary-had-a-little-lamb my foot. Razelda's MY lamb!
We didn't have a lot of money to spend on things that were non-essentials but I had to have Razelda. She had no price tag, and Janet contacted people that worked at the store-- to no avail, there wasn't another woolen friend anywhere in the store and they didn't know where she came from. Razelda had a ribbon collar and a beautiful name. Did we pay for her? I am not sure, I suppose at some "mark down" price.
Razelda soon became a permanent fixture in my heart and in my made up songs:
Razelda, Razelda, the wonderful lamb! Razelda, Razelda, doing the best that she can!
There were a lot more doggerel verses were that came from.
Fast forward some 22 years later.
Razelda now lives in my parents house and is played with by my nephew and nieces. I don't mind that they play with her, I sort of think Razelda likes to be useful.
When Elena (7) took Razelda to her father, my older brother, he said to her, "Oh my! Do you know who this is?" and began to sing Razelda's song. My niece's eyes got wide and upon completion of the tune she informed her father he was crazy.
As she walked toward me with my childhood friend, I explained that the sheep's name was Razelda.
"No," Elena told me, "This is Mary-had-a-little-lamb."
"No," I persisted, "That is MY sheep, RAZELDA! I've had her since I was your sister's age-- that means I've owned her for 22 years!"
"You're too old for a sheep," Elena said pointing out the error of my ways.
I proved my maturity and age as I stole my lamb back. Mary-had-a-little-lamb my foot. Razelda's MY lamb!
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