I have a confession to make.
When I was a little girl, I wrote a short story about how my Precious Moments came alive at night and played in my room, ate food from the kitchen, and practiced general mayhem until the wee hours of dawn, when they would sneak back to their places and resume their positions.
But that’s not my confession.
We now have the two best friends from Toy Story. Princess received Buzz as a gift from my dear friend Carrie and her three boys, who were allowed to get something new if they could give up some of their older toys that they no longer played with. All three agreed to give Princess one of their Buzz Lightyears. I will never forget how her eyes lit up when I gave it to her. And my brother Christopher and his family got Woody for Prince for his fifth birthday. So now we have the two of them, together forever.
That’s not my confession either.
My confession is this: every time I walk past either Woody or Buzz, and see them looking up at me, I think to myself, “Self? Was that the position he was in when you saw him last? Did he … move?”
Just look into their eyes. Don’t they look mischievous?
Seriously.
