I got a pop up ad for a Care Bears fanny pack cooler this morning. I have to admit, I clicked and admired it from all angles, captivated by the colorful ombre zipper and amusing rainbow print.
My Moo Moo bought me a tan plush Care Bear with a heart on his belly when I was twelve. One of the original ten Care Bears, "Tenderheart Bear" was cute as all get out, however, I distinctly remember, upon opening him on Christmas, that I was too old for a new stuffed animal.
I had a boyfriend. My favorite author was Stephen King. After softball practice, my friends and I would roam the woods looking for overgrown spots to squat and drink our Molson Goldens. What was I supposed to do with a bear with a brown plastic heart for a nose?
But because my beloved Moo Moo gave him to me, (along with a Jordache purse and a mood lipstick that was Witch of the West green in the tube but changed to a beachy shade of coral on my pout) I put him on top of my pillow after I made my bed in the morning, sandwiched between Pooh and Paddington, my ratty old-time favorites.
I never saw a Care Bears television show, though I recall that being a thing. I don't remember ever doing anything particularly notable with that heart belly bear who reclined on my pillow, but every morning I'd plop him there and every night, I'd take him off and gently put him on the floor next to my yellow twin bed.
And I'd look at that big red heart on his soft tawny belly and smile for a moment, thinking of my grandparents and how much they loved me.
So, today the Care Bears fanny pack advertisement appealed to me like designer jeans and walking to middle school every morning with my good friend Missy from down the street and turning two from second base. The beer drinking twelve-year old me would have loved this, but pre-teen me is now getting on in years and Canadian beer tends to give me just ten minutes of pleasure followed by two hours of heartburn and the thirty dollars plus shipping that this fanny pack costs would be better spent putting gas in my tank, so I am going to pass.
A difficult pass, it is.
Nonetheless, if my Moo Moo were alive, and thinking of buying me a Christmas present, I would totally hope this this might be her choice for me.
Throw a Molson in here and it'll stay cold in the dugout until we are ready.
#mushroomtumbler
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