If you’re old enough to remember the last time Halley’s comet was visible, you probably remember the “cow toy” or maybe even the “pig toy” that used to be on display in front of certain mall stores like Kirkland’s or KB Toys.
These animals would waddle a couple of steps, make their species-appropriate noise and wag their tail or wiggle their nose or some such cuteness.
When my daughter was a baby, we did the whole nursery thing: crib, rocking chair, changing table, toy chest, etc. After investing several hundred dollars in this set-up, I discovered I my inner hippie and we became “family bed” people, meaning the only time we got crib use was when I wanted to clean house during her nap time…like, say, twice a year or so.
On one such day, my sweet baby girl fell asleep and, feeling an inexplicable need to vacuum, I took her upstairs, put her in the crib with some “babies”, pulled the blanket up and the door closed, and left her to snooze peacefully. I would check on her from time to time, as she was such a good-natured baby she almost never cried. When she woke, she would just stare at her toes or make mouth bubbles or whatever else babies do. On this day, however, she woke SCREAMING. Not the “I’m hungry” cry, or the “I’m alone” whimper, not even the “I HAVE DIAPER RASH AND MY TUSHY BURNS!!!!” wail. This was a full-blown scream of terror.
I flew up the stairs (as all super-moms do), rushed into her room to find her flailing in one corner of her crib, her feet entangled in a blanket, as she frantically attempted to escape it. Poor kid. I picked her up, checked her out, and soothed her mini-freak-out. She was fine. Once she quieted down, I heard a softly recurring “mooooo” from under the blanket that had been twisted around her feet. I turned off the little cow she must have inadvertantly kicked on in her sleep, and we went off to play.
Some days later we were in the nursery reading books and playing with blocks, when I set the cow between us and flipped him on. He started to waddle and before he could “moo”, Kacey was in full-blown screaming freak-out mode.
Seems when she kicked on our little bovine friend, his electronic noises woke her, 
and not being able to escape from under the blanket that imprisoned them both, she experienced her first panic attack.
She never could play with the cow again.
Though, every now and again, for my own sadistic entertainment, I would flip it on just to see what happened. Yeah…Super-Mom has a dark side.
distracting you from the fact that you are paying $26.94 for a couple of burgers and a glass that contains more ice than tea.
It read, “Who would play you in the movie of your life?”
and before the name “Angelina Jolie” rolled off her tongue, her son spurted out,
I don’t know if you’re a fan of crackers or not, but they rank pretty high on my snack food list. Club crackers, much like eggs and toilet paper, are a staple at our house. Remember when they used to be in 2-packs in a basket on every table in every restaurant in North America, and how you would make a half-dozen sweet-&-sour cracker sandwiches waiting for your WonTon Soup to be served? 
I splurged on a sack of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish (which are price-equivalent to a 16-oz ribeye). This time I was met with enthusiasm! 
The children couldn’t tell me by name. So, again I perused the Ritz and Cheese Nips and Triscuits, and decided they must want Wheat Thins. Once home, I waved the yellow box in front of them with a satisfied smile and asked,
she said 
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