I wouldn't go on the rides but we'd play the carnival games and I rarely ever won anything. But once, my eye caught sight of a stuffed raccoon hanging from the upper reaches of a roulette-ish style game. One would make fifty cent bets on colors, months, numbers, days of the weeks all sorts of things. Then someone in the crowd tossed a hexagon shaped die and whatever the die landed on was the winner.
And I wanted that raccoon. I begged my dad to let me play and he handed me fifty cents. I have no idea what I put my bet on but when that die bounced across the betting table, I knew, I just knew I was going to win. Every molecule in my body knew that me winning was the only possible outcome.
Image my devestation when I didn't win.
Tears welled up in my eyes and I'm sure that a temper tantrum was imminent. My dad quickly took out another fifty cents and said he'd give it a go, but if he didn't win then it was time to move on to the rubber frog launching game that he knew I wanted to play next. With a nod I agreed because of course my dad would win me my raccoon.
And you know what?
He totally did.
But I'm fairly sure he played about a hundred more times.
|Sort of looks like he's doing the hula, doesn't it?|
|I tried to get him from his best side, but honestly, all his sides are the best!|
Bandit has been with me since I was eight years old. He is from an era when carnival prizes were made out of quality material - no plastic pellets fill his tummy just soft and oh so squishable fiberfill. He stayed on my bed from elementary school right through college. He still sits next to my bed today. I don't snuggle him as much anymore but some days when I am sad or angry with the world I reach out for him and squeeze him tight. Which is why, really, he's a bit lopsided now and the soft velvet of his nose has worn away.
This is part of a month long photo a day challenge hosted by fatmumslim.