bear in the bedroom

No, that’s not a misspelling referring to shenanigans in the bedroom. It’s actually more like a correct spelling referring to absolutely no shenanigans happening in the bedroom EVER AGAIN. Possibly.

See, Chris has been bear hunting. And last Saturday he ‘bagged a bear.’ That is the cool hunterly word for it. So aside from the fact that he’s convinced himself that he’s going to convince me to eat bear meat – ha, I’m not even going to justify that by acknowledging it – he expects bear to become part of the home decor. Initially, to save money, he was going to have the guy that does this make a bear skin rug. I could have maybe handled that. Maybe. Possibly.

But no. Guess what? He and the guy that does such things get to talking, and guess what? GUESS WHAT? Turns out we’re FAMILY. How lovely! Family discount all around! 3/4 bear mount! We’ll get into that in a moment, first we get to the fun part. Guess how we’re family? Guess. No, really. Guess.

THROUGH ME.

The universe laughs a good long belly laugh on my behalf. Thanks, universe. Of all the surprisingly many places for Chris to have gone to get this bear turned into some lasting trophy, he manages to locate one of my many distant relatives. Suuuuper.

On to the 3/4 mount. I know, my response to my husband telling me we get this with grand excitement was, “uh….. huuuuuuuh?” Well, enlightenment. That describes a head, two paws doing some bearish pose, like, one paw down and one paw up or something, and a partial torso. Thankfully the bear will not be making a scary face, apparently. So, of course, the next question was obvious.

“And…. where are you planning on putting this?” “Oh, we can put it in our bedroom until I get my hunting room!” “Uhhh… no. How am I supposed to sleep with a dead bear staring at me?” “Oh, we can throw a blanket over it at night.”

Yeah. Big furry chastity belt, that’s what that is, right there.

And yes, the plan (on both our parts) is that he eventually has a room to stash his hunting gear and dead animals and stuff. Somehow he seemed slightly annoyed when I cheerfully pointed out when the kids are bad I can make them go sit in that room for five minutes and scare the pants off them.

You’re right, that’s mean. Imagine the therapy my poor kids will need.

I don’t know when this bear is supposed to wind up in my house, or where it’s going to wind up, but I’ll keep you posted. I’m sure you share my mixed sense of amusement and horror.