Decorative pillows, stuffed animals, custom photo-printed quilts and tapestries, couches with second cushion layers. TV top doilies stacked like pancakes, themselves pancaked with dust. Extra socks inside slipper socks inside slippers inside house boots all wrapped with clear packing tape and plastic sheeting. Little strings around each finger tied to strings wrapped around fingers on the other hand tied around the neck. Cotton balls under the tongue.
Life-sized Raggedy Andy doll velcro-ed to your back. Piles and piles of paper towel – two ply! – unraveled from the tube and carefully stacked around the house and stuffed into your sweater. Unopened cases of work socks from the warehouse store.
And the Beanie Babies.
We stuffed them into four hundred garbage bags and used them to block out all the light.
Every three hours Daddy comes over with his bucket and pours fresh white flour down into our mouths, while Mommy cries and cries. Daddy understands. He’s working two jobs to make this happen. He defied the police and surrounded the house with mattresses and took in other people’s laundry to fill in under the stairs.
Just can’t wait for the cotton candy machine to arrive.
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