It occurs to me that someone who is always smiling at me must have had a birthday recently and I didn’t even really think about it. That is Mr. Happy!
It’s weird how parents can only think of time as it relates to the little rug rats, and I’m thinking mine was about 3 when Mr. Happy was born.
One of the things my Sweetie does to maintain her man is to give me pedicures. She has to wrangle me, she has to chase me down, but eventually she manages to pin me down to give me pedal pleasure. I don’t know why she has to chase me down my toenails don’t actually like me and will take even the slightest opportunity given to tear into my flesh, but anyway Sweetie pie is giving me a pedicure 21 odd years ago today.
It was getting late and I had bitched enough at getting pampered I suppose. I laid down with my feet dangling over the bed, and the maternal instinct inside Sweetie came into action and she put him on there. She said she was done, and I didn’t even look. I sat there with my feet dangling off the bed snoozed, and eventually crawled into bed and went to sleep. I didn’t even know he was there.
The next morning I got up before the chickens like normal, and dutifully showered dressed in my standard mark one dark suit white shirt blue tie wingtip corporate sales dude uniform and headed into my hour and a half commute through the teeth of LA traffic. This I did oblivious to my new friend for a solid week.
Of course Sweetie had to tell our baby and did they have fun. Women have private jokes so I didn’t want to invade their space, but for the longest there was giggling pointing and the atmosphere of when is Daddy going to notice.
So on that Friday I kick off the Bostonians slide off the socks and there he is. My first impression is he’s cute. He’s whimsical! I think how did I go through the entire week and miss him. I had a body modification and didn’t even trip. The ladies in the house had a great time once he was discovered and Sweetie offered to erase him, but I liked him.
I am sure one of the hardest professions on the planet is sales. You’re nervous prospecting, you’re nervous presenting, you’re nervous if you’re going to do anything that month, and end up broke, or a teacher. Yet when I was in one of the presentations or giving a demonstration I could always look down and think, there’s someone smiling at me I got Mr. Happy.
Over the years he’s been a source of humor like the time my Mom’s next door neighbor’s kid noticed him when I was wearing sandals. She was like 5 at the time and lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw him “you got a happy man on your toe!” that’s right I said it’s Mr. Happy! Then I had to sit in fear for a day or three while I imagined her going home and telling her Mother that the man next door showed her Mr. Happy.
He’s a real ambassador to kids. The girls think hey that man is wearing a happy man on his toe can he do that? The boys think hey he’s got a happy man on his toe can he do that, and when they ask I tell them the same thing I’ve told the many adults who want to know Mr. Happy. He’s a reminder to be happy, he’s someone you can look at and he’ll always give you a smile. People can't have too many of those.
He’s also a reminder to Sweetie to start chasing me down again when his eyes get to close to the edge, but now that I’m older I try not to fight so hard against pleasure.
How come when they turn twenty one the first thing they want to do is just have a drink right in front of you?
The cool thing is it looks like he likes my brand of suds.
Namaste friends!
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