When I was 2 or 3 years old, I had a total fascination, obsession, THING for Ernie and his rubber ducky. As in, my mother found watching Ernie on the basement TV, lathering my hair with my grandfather’s Selsun Blue shampoo (it stained the carpet).
***This obsession may have led to a Jr. High talent show performance that involved a best friend, bathrobes, and a 300 lb clawfoot bathtub. But that’s another post.
To say I wanted a rubber ducky of my own is putting it lightly. I NEEDED a ducky. CRAVED a ducky. It was THE one and only item on my Christmas list.
Now, this was before the days of Amazon, Ebay, or the Internet. It was before rubber duckies became mainstream. (Ever the trend setter) So my parents had their work cut out for them. My father has since informed me that he went to three stores before he could find “that damn duck”. If you know Hank, you know if it’s not at Costco, it’s not happening, so THREE stores in order to make his daughter’s Christmas wish come true is a real sacrifice.
Enter Christmas morning, and into my life came not one, but TWO of the desired items. Not only had my parents come through, my lovely Aunt Judy had also scored a duck! I could now bathe in perfect synch with my hero. Life was good. Life was better than good.
This is one of my sweetest Christmas memories. I keep ducks stashed around the house and hanging on my Christmas tree to this day. For this reason:
These ducks remind me of a very simple time. They remind me of the sacrifices parents make for children. They remind me to be grateful. And of course, they remind me to giggle, bathe, and sing in the tub.
Light and Love,