Feb 16 2008
Bobo
Okay, so over the summer before the strike, when I was having trouble figuring out what the hell to write, a few friends of mine and I formed a five-man team to perform an experiment and write a script in a week. It was about a clown named Bobo. It was a very good idea, and while we finished it, it never really came together in the way that we had hoped.
Around that time, before Sophie arrived, we were on a big baby-shower-Babies-R-Us-gift-card shopping spree, and needed to spend 15 more dollars to qualify for a big price break. So after much hemming and hawing, I bought this big plush monkey. I could tell he really wanted to come home with us, and just couldn’t leave him in the store. He was calling to me.
Now, that monkey, named Bobo, is Sophie’s favorite friend. She squeals in delight when I make Bobo dance, she kisses him until he’s sopping wet, she loves to wrestle with him, and she likes to relax with him and listen to music on the iPod — and will just stare at him, smiling, for the longest time. So, here’s Sophie and Bobo chilling in her room, jamming to some tunes:
I knew we wrote that script for a reason.
You should probably buy two or three more Bobos. Looks like she’ll want to keep him around for a few years, and you’ll want several in the rotation to deal with wear and tear, a Bobo fill-in when one or two need to be washed, and the likely event that she leaves him someplace.
We thought she’d like Ernie better, he’s the smaller, softer monkey that hangs from her mobile, but she seems to like the big guy better.
I know BoBo. I saved our place in line so he could come home with us. He lived in the chair until Sophie came. I am glad they became buddies.
xo
Mom Mom