Our local Gymboree started doing weekly raffles for toys or something. I don't know. They told me to write Noah's name on a piece of paper and I obeyed. And then they called and said we'd won.
We won! A prize! I am the best name-on-paper-writer EVER.
My choices were a giant Gymbo doll or a mini-parachute. And since I do not allow clowns or clown-related accessories into my house, I opted for the parachute. I figured: mini! We could toss it over some chairs and make a fort! Or a cape for Gay Pride Man! Or we could stage an elaborate production of Noah and the Amazing Technicolor Parachute, except that Mama will play all the parts while Noah is napping!
The "mini-parachute" is gigantic. I don't have a frakking clue what the hell I'm supposed to do with this thing. In Gymboree they make the adults stand around and hold the edges for a variety of activities, all guaranteed to terrify about 75% of our toddlers, but what's the damn point of this thing at home?
WHY, I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED:
Option One: Makes a lovely slipcover! Relive the magic of a Gymboree parachute ride every time you sit on your couch!
Option Two: A whimsical tablecloth! Your dinner guests will feel like they're dining under the Big Top, or possibly on mushrooms.
Option Three: Did you move at some point in the past year? The mini-parachute is perfect for hiding up to forty-five broken-down cardboard boxes. Also for seriously freaking you the fuck out when you catch a glimpse of this out of the corner of your eye when you get up to pee in the middle of the night because OH MY GOD, THE PSYCHEDELIC ELEPHANTS ARE BACK.
Option Four: Start your own cult.
(Seriously. Where the hell does Jason get the idea that I have so much time on my hands during the day? Where?)
I think we're actually going to go with Option Five, which is leaving the mini-parachute in a wadded-up heap in the basement closet until spring, when I can cover our entire backyard with it whenever I don't feel like mowing the lawn.
Or maybe that Amazing Technicolor Parachute musical idea. Maybe that one.
(Oh, and I'm getting closer and closer to re-creating my banner image for the new generation.)
(Also every gooberiffic photo of me in which I spontaneously erupt in multiple chins.)