These are a few of my favorite things

What was your favorite or most memorable childhood toy?

You’d be surprised what kind of answers come from asking that question. You might even surprise yourself with your own answer, remembering long ago moments you didn’t think you’d ever think of again. How did you get the toy? Was it a reward? A gift? Something you bought with your allowance money, or perhaps something you stole? 

I’m sure most of our initial reactions upon receiving our favorite toy included feelings of happiness, excitement, and satisfaction. And over the course of a few days, months, years - I’m sure there was a transformation in the purpose your toy served. Perhaps it endured strolls to the park and playtime in the bathtub. It also might have been your weapon of choice to hit your annoying, tattle-tailing,  younger sibling.  And finally, it could have been the one that captured your tears and hugged close to your heart when you were sick, injured, or heartbroken. 

I had my phases: Barbies, dinosaurs, Legos. But for awhile, I had this phase when I collected porcelain clown dolls. Creepy? Yes, I agree. They ranged from pocket-size to about half a foot in length. Their faces were painted on a sheet of porcelain, and their little clown-suited bodies were filled with sand. They were always a bit heavy. They weren’t the most cuddly toys, but I liked that about them a lot. My mom would find them at thrift stores so they must not have been more than a couple bucks. Since they were so inexpensive, she was always bringing them home for me. Soon my bedroom was filled with little clown faces staring back at you. One of my brothers was always scared to come into my room because of them. Talk about successfully keeping away those annoying, tattle-tailing younger siblings. 

I don’t blame him though. My Mom introduced the Stephen King movie, IT, to us a few years back, and my brother’s perspective on circus clowns was changed forever- in a not-so-good way. She always likes telling us about the day after we saw the movie. First of all, I was 4. Roger was 2 and Richie was just a baby. Roger was the one hit hard- poor Rogee. I honestly don’t know what she was thinking, playing that movie - but then again, it’s my Mom and I don’t think she realized it would be that scary.  We probably cried afterwards (who wouldn’t?! ) and then she probably felt bad. So to be a good mother, she decided to take us to Toys R’ Us the next day. Yay!

As she pulls into the store parking lot in our minivan, imagine three ecstatic kids in the backseat all thinking they are about to get brand new toys. She pulls into the parking spot, puts Richie in the stroller, Roger on her hip, and I walk beside her. As soon as we go around the minivan we have a clear view of the storefront. 

That’s when we see him- the Clown. 

I’m sure the thought of “Oh shit” crossed my Mom’s mind before Roger decided to go ballistic. He starts screaming and crying, and wants to run away. My Mom attempts to calm him down, explaining that the clown is a “friendly” clown and won’t hurt him. I’m staring up at them thinking, why is my little brother freaking out? Then she notices other parents staring at her probably thinking why this woman can’t calm down her child. I mean, what child starts crying before going into a toy store? Finally, she gives up, puts us all back in the minivan, and drives home. Richie was asleep, I was sad, Roger was terrified, and my Mom was embarrassed. 

Well Mom, that’s what you get for making us watch scary movies. Don’t even get me started on Puppet Master. 

I stray from the topic. As you may remember, I used to collect porcelain clowns. These clowns stayed in my life for quite awhile. I had never bought one of these clowns myself until one day, I was at the Dollar Store and saw this adorable, tiny clown. It had a blue outfit with poofy, little yellow buttons, white hair that stuck out on the sides and a little blue hat. At about 3 inches tall, it would be the tiniest clown in my collection. I bought this clown and I named him - Lucky the Clown. 

I really liked having Lucky around. I would pat his head every day before I left for school, and I would even sometimes carry him around in my handbags. I didn’t show my friends because everyone thought clowns were creepy. 

I loved this clown so much, but then I started realizing soon after purchasing Lucky the Clown, all these “bad” things started happening. I got a bad grade on my test, a boy I liked rolled his eyes at me, and my Mom made me do more dishes. My life was becoming unlucky!

I stopped carrying Lucky the Clown around, and I even refused to pat his head before I left for school. But bad things kept happening! I got into a fight with my friend, my show was cancelled, I tripped and scraped my knee - what was going on?! I had had the last straw, made up my mind, and decided I would be rid of Lucky the Clown. 

I marched up the stairs to my bedroom, threw my book bag on my bed, and started walking towards my dresser to grab Lucky when I realized… he was gone. I didn’t take him to school that day, and I was sure I saw him on my dresser when I had left. There is no way my brothers would have come in, and my Mom knows how much I like my clowns. However, she didn’t know how much I despised Lucky - I don’t even think she knew I had purchased him. I started looking around my room and when I glanced at my bed, there he was, propped up against my pillow. I looked suspiciously around the room and I concluded that he knew I was coming for him. 

Terrified of what he would do to me, I didn’t throw him away. Lucky the Clown became Lucky, the Evil Clown. Time went by and my life felt increasingly unluckier each and every day. I knew Lucky was doing this as revenge, and it had to be stopped. In a moment of courage, I grabbed Lucky and threw him in the kitchen garbage bin. Those following days were some of the most terrifying days I’ve ever lived. Would I come home and find Lucky the Clown back on my bed? Would I wake up one night and see him standing over me with a little clown knife? These were all very rational thoughts at the time. 

Lucky the Clown never did come back. But I have to admit, to this day, sometimes I get chills that I’ll see him when I come home. And that, although the most short-lived favorite, is undoubtedly my most memorable childhood toy.