. . . and then there was pickle.

The bee sits at the edge of her bouncy seat, mirrored by his silent sidekick the blue raccoon. They are both held in place by retractable arms that sit in constant eyeshot of the pickle as she whiles away her time unaware of the emotional threat - happily listening to the pinging melody of ‘the wheels on the bus go round and round . . .’

The bee first made its appearance at the grandma’s house and was such a hit that we bought an identical bouncy seat for home as well. Little did we know the torment and torture we were submerging our poor daughter in.

You see the bee is in fact colorful and smiley and overwhelmingly interesting to the pickle, but unfortunately the bee is an inanimate object - and this tends to piss off the pickle and cause torrential outbursts when the bee refuses to respond, dance, sing, or climb into her mouth of its own volition – the entire time being mocked in silence by the ever present blue raccoon.

The battle started when that thing that sporadically waved in front of her face and occasionally bopped her in the head was realized to be, in fact, her own hand. It was soon after that she grew intensely interested in bopping everything near her and occasionally grasping these objects for fleeting moments until a spasmodic loss of control resulted in the bopping of the head with whatever object happened to be held.

The love-hate relationship that has developed between my daughter and the bee is a tale for the ages. Homer could only scratch the surface of the joy and betrayal that etched the young heart of my beautiful girl.

The bee sits in mocking silence throughout all of her elaborate coos and bellows attempting to gain some form of reaction . . . but to no avail. If you look in the attached album you will see an example of the struggle . . . and the hollow core of a girl left in torment and exhaustion after yet another failed attempt to achieve love and understanding in a cruel world.

Pickle's Papa