Mary HAD a Little Lamb: How a Childhood Story got Murdered
I was going through the mail pile on the dinning room table and saw this book:
My mom had brought it home from work. The lamb’s head looked so soft and inviting, so I reached out to pet it. It was just as soft as I imagined. I continued to pet the lamb when this caught my eye:
The lamb was partially blind. And that was just sad, because any wounded animal hits a tender spot in my heart.
I flipped open the book and was horrified when this happened:
Double u. Tee. Eff.
What the hell happened to the lamb’s head?
It was hanging from the edge of the cover.
I asked my mom why she brought home a damaged lamb, and she responded that one of the kids from her class ripped the head off. She was hoping to glue it back on.
Storytime has definitely changed since I was in kindergarten.
As of this post, the lamb’s head has yet to be glued back on. Now I’ve got this creepy book hanging around the house, and I’m not quite sure how I feel about it.