Years ago, when I was probably 8 or 9, my mom and I were packing for the yearly Girl Scout mother/daughter camp-out held at the campgrounds a few miles outside of town. My mom entered my room to supervise my packing and found me surrounded by about a dozen stuffed animals of varying sizes, all of which I planned to take with me on our trip.
“No,” Mom said. “You can’t take them all. Choose one; that’s it.”
What Mom didn’t understand was that the stuffed animals I left behind would be devastated and deeply offended by my lack of loyalty (I was a child growing up in theĀ Toy Story era, mind you). I ended up smuggling all of my stuffed animals to camp in the bottom of my rolled-up sleeping bag. That night I ate marshmallows around the campfire with my fellow Girl Scouts, impressed by my powers of deception — until it was time for bed.
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