Steve is throwing a tantrum. See? There he is, on my bedside table, glaring at me out of his beady little eyes (and they are, literally - beady, I mean. Two little black beads.). What do you mean, that tantrum doesn't look very violent? It is. In a softly woolly, fuffly, teddybearish sort of way. Okay, okay, it's hard to tell the difference between a teddybear's tantrum, ecstatic delight, and complete ennui, but if you know the teddybear in question really well, it's fairly obvious. So trust me, this is a tantrum.It's all because I haven't been giving him enough screen time lately. Well, I've been busy, Steve, okay? I've had enough to do just trying to get the odd post up about my own concerns. Well, yes. I know that's a lame excuse. But I thought you were happy, hanging with Horatio. I'm sorry, okay? So what do you want me to tell everybody?
Oh. Now he's not talking to me. Or to you, for that matter. The tantrum has turned into sulks. Sigh... Temperamental teddybears. Just what I need today.
I wonder if he's affected by the cloudy weather, too. I heard yesterday on the radio that there are people, about 10% of the population, who are bona fide "Rain Haters". They get demonstrably unhappier in rainy weather. We've had a string of beautiful, sunny spring days, so warm it felt almost like summer, but today, it's all cloudy again. And I, for one, find it a bit difficult to deal with. So it's probably getting to Steve, too. Have you ever noticed how your teddybear's moods can really reflect yours? No? Oh. I thought everyone had a small teddybear on their bedside table who travels with them wherever they go (mostly).
I'm going to see if I can coax Steve out of his sulks. Maybe reading him a story would do the job? I wonder if he'd like Mansfield Park.
Life, the Universe, and Teddybear Tantrums. It's all in a day's work.
