They’re our very own ragtag group of Christmas Carolers. We’ve carefully curated and purchased all of them from the impeccable sources of Walgreens and CVS. They’ve been part of our Christmases for ages. They’re old. Way, way old. So, in this year like no other, we thought perhaps they should remain quarantined in the basement. But the need for their joyous voices and happy faces bested our strict covid rules.
They had to be checked out, of course. Tested, as it were. One by one, we pinched their little sensor fingers and wound their little stems to see if they still had life. Several needed battery-boosts. That part was expertly managed by our in-house doctor, always at the ready with his handy-dandy tool kit.
Then. Sigh. Alas. Oh, dear, Oh, dear. Minnie the Mouse was unresponsive. And remained that way even after repeated battery replacements and some heavy-duty shaking to try to wake her up. Minnie is no ordinary member of the chorus. She’s special. Always has been. She has a little wiggle to her hips when she sings. Her cheeks light up. Her tiny voice rises above the others. She’s our alpha. But this year? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Was this Minnie’s last act?
I’ll fix her, said the Mister. You can’t fix her, I said. She was made in China and you can’t fix anything that was made in China. Everyone knows that.
Undeterred, he went straight to Amazon and ordered parts. Many parts.
Unbelievably, all those parts arrived in less than 24 hours. The Doctor/Mister lovingly carried Minnie downstairs to the OR, opened her up, removed some battery corrosion, rearranged a few internal modules, rewired her vocal-chords, and replaced her micro-activator switch. He brought her back upstairs and just like that, she wiggled her hips and sang her little song. There was joy in our house again.
So, here she is. Ready to share her cheer with you. Her words are a bit slurred and her song is not as long as it once was. You’ll have to forgive her. She’s been through a lot. She’s doing her best. I think most of us can appreciate that.