Hand Over the Monkey

Hand Over the Monkey

Noel Laflin

11-18-17

I have had sock monkeys on my mind recently.

I don’t know why exactly, but you know how stray thoughts will show up out of the blue and then, like uninvited hungry guests, stick around until fed. Thus it’s been with this thought lately.  And although I have never owned one – well, not for more than a few weeks anyway - I made a sock monkey once - very long ago.

“Noel, it’s time to give the monkey to the nice lady,” urged Mrs. Looney, Den Mother of Den #3.

“I think I want to keep him,” whispered eight-year-old me.

Joy Looney smiled at the nice lady before returning her attention back my way.

“All of the other boys have given her their monkeys,” Mrs. Looney said. “You know he’s going to be loved by someone very special,” she bartered.

“But I love him too,” I countered coyly.

You see, like Geppetto falling for his puppet, I had taken to the soft red, brown, and cream creation that had taken me three Saturdays to cut, stitch and stuff during our weekly den meetings in Mrs. Looney’s garage.

And now, when it actually came time to hand over my masterpiece to the nice lady from the hospital – the one who would see to it that it made its way to some girl or boy who would benefit from the gift  - I blanched.

It was only a momentary blanch, mind you, as you may have caught on by now, but blanch I had.

However, with the tact of Solomon and the patience of Job, Mrs. Looney eventually convinced me to put my monkey in the box with the others and led me back to my waiting mates.

No one teased me about the incident that I can recall.

I suspect some might have had similar thoughts of reluctance as well.