I got a mysterious package in the mail last week. It was a plain white mailer with a soft, tightly wrapped package inside. Prison habits die hard so at first I wasn't entirely sure I should even open it, let alone bring it in the house. But also, I love surprises so I figured the chances of it being a human appendage, despite clues to the contrary, were pretty low. I definitely did not gather the children around to watch though.
I started to carefully unwrap the inner package, and when a tiny white rubber sneaker emerged I squealed in a way that must have telegraphed "not a body!" because Sydney rushed over to see what I'd found and was able to capture the pure joy on my face when I unwrapped him
So here's the backstory: When I was a baby, I was gifted a stuffed monkey. The specifics of who gave him to me and when are lost to history, but MonkeyMan was the closest thing to a lovey I ever had. Fast forward 13 years, and my dad's rental house floods. A mitigation company comes and collects all the wet items with promises to return everything dry and clean. When we get the boxes back, they aren't ours. MonkeyMan is lost. FOREVER.
Several years later, we usher in the internet and with it, ebay. Thus begins several years of my mother and I searching for a MonkeyMan. I now now he's called a "Mr. Bim Zippy," that he's been manufactured since literally the beginning of time, and that nearly every version is the frightening stuff of nightmares. I started to question my own memories. Was it possible that my family bestowed on me a demonic looking lovey for their own entertainment? 100%
I'm not going to post pictures of the hundreds of possible iterations of MonkeyMan because I don't want to do that to anyone, but if you're so inclined to google "Mr. Bim Zippy" I'll wait.
But this? This IS the version I had (and way less psychotic looking in person, I promise).
After some sleuthing, I figured out that my sister had stumbled on him while deep in Reddit and had sent him to me anonymously. I think he might be one of the most thoughtful gestures anyone's ever made for me and he now is sitting proudly in my room, watching over me with his crazy eyes and disproportionately sized hands, reminding me that I am seen and loved and that when you get mystery packages in the mail, there's a good chance they aren't body parts.