Ok, this night has just taken a turn for the "Holy Crap What Are We Going To Do When She Wakes Up?"
Im going to cut straight to the chase here, as time is of the utmost importance.
This note is actually a Shout-Out to all of Facebookdom, Twitterville and Blogosphere.
I have a problem of biblical proportions on my hand (no, I dont require a male and female of every species. This is far more important than that!)
Just over a year ago, some very dear friends of ours bought a gift for Sabreen, our baby girl. As every parent knows, kids have a knack of latching onto one singular item in a room filled with toys, and deciding that said chosen item shall be The Holy Grail, the toy that carries them through infancy, childhood, their teenage years, their first prom, adulthood, adultery, and finally they can be found shopping at GreenCross for comfortable slippers at the age of 90 , with said toy safely tucked in their handbags, next to their adult nappies and yesterdays cheeseburger and pictures of their grandchildren and sewing machine oil.
You get the picture.
Moving on, swiftly, as time is of the utmost importance.
Sabreen, in her infinite wisdom and childlike brilliance (much like her dad) has chosen said gift given to her by said friends. A pink stuffed hippo she calls Baba. She's never more than 3 feet away from Baba, ever!
Today, she decided that it was time Baba learnt how to swim, and proceeded to throw him into the huge water-feature mermaid I have in the garden. Its not the first time she's done this, but it is the first time that the missus was reading "Popular Mechanics" at the time, and had a brain-fart, and decided that she would simply pop Baba into the Microwave for 5 minutes. No, not Defrost, or set to "Soup" or "Light Meals". Pink Hippo Baba was set to "Incinerate Stuffed Cute & Cuddly Toy"
Pictures have been attached to show the huge gaping hole which was once upon a time Baba's mid-section.
My request is simple and humble.
If you or anyone you know, has even the remotest clue as to where we could find a replacement before Sabreen realises her parents are Pink Hippo Mass Murderers and calls Social Services, please please please contact me urgently.
Did I mention URGENTLY?
Thank you.
Dankie baie.
Jazakalla.
Nkosi Sikelei Baba.
Im going to cut straight to the chase here, as time is of the utmost importance.
This note is actually a Shout-Out to all of Facebookdom, Twitterville and Blogosphere.
I have a problem of biblical proportions on my hand (no, I dont require a male and female of every species. This is far more important than that!)
Just over a year ago, some very dear friends of ours bought a gift for Sabreen, our baby girl. As every parent knows, kids have a knack of latching onto one singular item in a room filled with toys, and deciding that said chosen item shall be The Holy Grail, the toy that carries them through infancy, childhood, their teenage years, their first prom, adulthood, adultery, and finally they can be found shopping at GreenCross for comfortable slippers at the age of 90 , with said toy safely tucked in their handbags, next to their adult nappies and yesterdays cheeseburger and pictures of their grandchildren and sewing machine oil.
You get the picture.
Moving on, swiftly, as time is of the utmost importance.
Sabreen, in her infinite wisdom and childlike brilliance (much like her dad) has chosen said gift given to her by said friends. A pink stuffed hippo she calls Baba. She's never more than 3 feet away from Baba, ever!
Today, she decided that it was time Baba learnt how to swim, and proceeded to throw him into the huge water-feature mermaid I have in the garden. Its not the first time she's done this, but it is the first time that the missus was reading "Popular Mechanics" at the time, and had a brain-fart, and decided that she would simply pop Baba into the Microwave for 5 minutes. No, not Defrost, or set to "Soup" or "Light Meals". Pink Hippo Baba was set to "Incinerate Stuffed Cute & Cuddly Toy"
Pictures have been attached to show the huge gaping hole which was once upon a time Baba's mid-section.
My request is simple and humble.
If you or anyone you know, has even the remotest clue as to where we could find a replacement before Sabreen realises her parents are Pink Hippo Mass Murderers and calls Social Services, please please please contact me urgently.
Did I mention URGENTLY?
Thank you.
Dankie baie.
Jazakalla.
Nkosi Sikelei Baba.
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