Two Snoopys

My husband and I are first born kids. And we display a lot of those tendencies. We are cautious, reliable, tad controlling, and ambitious but mostly we took good care of our toys. Our books were not torn or colored in. Puzzle pieces were not missing. All the game pieces accounted for and in order (yes, monopoly money in groups from lowest to highest denomination). Oh sure, our rooms got messy, but they normally returned to order in time.

And then we received siblings. Family lore has it that my husband flat out asked his sister be returned very early in their relationship (spoiler: they did not return her). I am pretty sure I liked my brother until he could talk. And then he never stopped talking at that point, I, too wished there was a return program for siblings.

Much to our dismay our siblings did not display the sort of reverence for toys and possessions that we did. Pieces were lost to games. Puzzles destroyed. Books, well I cannot even talk about the books. One time my mom went into my brother’s room only to discover he had taken a hammer to a glass piggy bank to remove the 20 pennies. You can’t make this stuff up.

I had a small stash of toys that I flat out refused to hand down. They were MINE and I would not share them. Special colored pencils and books were some of the items I cherished. And a wind-up Snoopy. I have always loved Peanuts. My Aunt Mary introduced me to the world of Charles Shulz, and I never looked back. Granted I feel Woodstock is more my Spirit Animal than Snoopy but still.

When we married and were combining our things as couples do, we started to unpack our treasured keepsakes and showing them to each other. Turns out we both had Snoopys that walked that we had kept protected. Yup, they still walk across the table. Though, I am pretty sure mine is faster.  

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