The Problem with Elmo

When my son was young, he had a small, stuffed Elmo doll, the little red, furry character from Sesame Street that all the kids seemed to love, I think because he spoke more like a small child and thus the kids related to him more than the others because of that.  He took Elmo everywhere with him, and had to have him when he went to bed at night.

One day, my friend Chris and her daughter, Jennifer, were over visiting, and Chris and I were chatting while the kids played in my son's bedroom.  Jennifer is about three years older than my son, and at the time, he had a major crush on her that lasted for several years.  They were getting pretty loud, but we didn't think much of that, because that was normal.  Until we heard a bang and the sound of glass breaking.

Chris and I looked at each other, and both yelled at the same time, "DON'T MOVE!!!" and went back to see what had happened.

It turned out that they'd been throwing various stuffed animals up to the ceiling in his room, Elmo being one of them.  Neither of them took into account that Elmo had very hard, plastic eyes, and when those eyes hit the light cover, he must've hit just right, because it completely shattered to the floor.

I have to say, both of them followed directions well, as they were standing like statues and weren't moving at all, and stayed that way until Chris and I got the big pieces of glass picked up, then the rest vacuumed so that they wouldn't get cut.  Their eyes were huge and they were scared to death, expecting that they were in major trouble and would be punished, but instead we warned them of the dangers of throwing things inside the house, figuring the scare they got was punishment enough.

That time.

Several visits later, the two of them were playing in another room in the house, and we heard, again, another crashing noise, only this time not the sound of shattering glass, and went in to find that, yet again, Elmo had been used as a UFO in the game  they were playing, and again, hit the light cover on the ceiling in that room!  This time, the cover didn't shatter, but instead broke into two pieces.  My son was standing in the middle of the room, saying, "Ow, ow, ow," but in a very soft voice, then finally showing us where the corner of the light cover had hit him in the shoulder, leaving a round, bleeding mark.

This time, they were punished, and told in no uncertain terms that there would be no throwing of any stuffed animals in any room, ever again.  And there never was.

My son, however, still has a perfectly round scar on the back of his shoulder where the corner of that light cover hit him, to remind him of that day.

Poor Elmo, though.  Being used as a projectile couldn't have been much fun.

Personally, I favored Oscar the Grouch and the Cookie Monster.