Ok so at that same pizza place, you know the one I wrote about with the baby in the kitchen, well, maybe we also we're exactly being "restaurant appropriate" either.
I mean, they had a baby in the kitchen.
We had an Elf Fe at the table.
I'm starting to bring Elf Fe (also known as ElFe - naming rights belong to Fe's BFF Christine) to family activities because why wouldn't I bring a plush version of my mother with us? I mean, if you had a stuffed your mother, wouldn't you carry her around?
So, I brought her on the outing we went to the ended with us at said Baby Kitchen Pizza Place.
And I brought her inside for dinner. Obviously, she had to eat.
Mom and her had a little chat.
Not sure what you talk about with your plush self but it seemed for existentionism-ish to me (that's a word. Existentionismish. I took three philosophy classes in college and this is the best I could do. I went to a public university. Sue me.).
She ate a salad which I said wasn't necessary since she looks great and why is she watching her figure, but she insisted. Also, Dad insisted on creating a nice Italian back drop for her and lemme tell you, getting that fork to stay up. Go Shelley. That was not an easy one to balance. See, this was a family game. We are very inclusive in our inappropriate behavior.
Then Dad also took some time to discuss somethings with Elf Fe that he had on his mind. He and Real Fe have been married for 36 years, so I'm assuming he and Plush Fe had a lot to discuss.
She washed down her salad with a Dr. Pepper.
I should know, because it was mine and she's always taking my things. That's a lie.
And then Shelley tried to eat her. Which I'm not sure how that fits in, but it happened so yeah. I don't really know how any of this made a post, but I know that I sure love Elf Fe and kind of love having her pop back onto the blog.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again.
Once you find a plush version of your Mom as an Elf, your life is never really the same.