Letting Go... continued

Elmo is a Replicon
At first I thought Elmo had gone out on the town and met a new friend. I saw him with a little girl at the mall, and in the book store with another little boy when I was with Daddy. I called out to Elmo but he ignored me, wouldn’t come to me. It was like I didn’t exist to him. Then I thought, wait a minute crazy, it must be his cousin. His identical cousin, if that is possible. Because he looked like my Elmo. And then I discovered the truth. I was ripping up The New York Times one morning and I saw a story in the business section. “Elmo Readied for Retail Push: One Million Ready for Shipping.” He was reproducing himself! The ego, the audacity, the affront to individuality and true souls connecting. Elmo was all ego and fur. This hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t eat my oat meal that morning, instead spreading it around the table in an angry and desolate mood. My parents were not happy with this behavior, but clearly they didn’t care about what I was going through. No soothing words or heartfelt outreaches. They just said “Stop That.” If I could, I would. But how do you stop feelings! Elmo I love hate you.

Letting Go... continued

What Would Doctor Phil Say?
I don’t know, my parents don’t let me watch TV. But that bald teddy bear-like father figure would no doubt have kind words to say laced with the harsh notes of reality. “He is no good for you, there is no future with him, there are other furry creature soul mates out there for you, addiction and a one-sided conversation is not the basis for a healthy relationship.” Well, Dr. P, sure, but do you remember what it’s like to love the love of a two-year old? To make the best friend you could imagine and then find out he is two timing and three timing and what ever number comes after that timing on you? It hurts to the quick, doctor.

Elmo is a Whore
It’s true. At first, there was me and Elmo. We would play for hours. He would always be there for me, ready to talk after my nap, back from day care, after dinner and before breakfast. But at the playgroup at my house he started flirting with Sally, the trollop from down the street. And Becky from my Music and Me class. And that slut Cynthia. And even Bobby, Max and Chris. It seems that Elmo liked to talk to everyone, to gesticulate and wiggle and act like the slut that he is. Not a fun lesson, but one that I was willing to overlook, if only it had ended there.