My mom, sister, and I went to one of our favorite home decor stores one day and eventually found ourselves in the back room where everything is 50 – 75% off, which is right up my alley. Most of the stuff there is perfectly good and just moved from the main floor by that time, but some is definitely just plain broken.
The great thing about this room, though, is that they have tons of Christmas decorations that you won’t find anywhere else. I found a great reindeer whose antlers formed a candelabra and a magnetic advent calendar too.
As I continued to walk around, I glanced over and saw something sitting alone on a shelf that I immediately fell in love with. I had spotted a wooden reindeer who was just beautiful, regardless of the fact that his knee was broken and he was missing an antler.
I walked him over to where my sister was talking to two colleagues she had bumped into and told her that I had fallen in love with this broken reindeer. I got some strange looks from her friends but I was undeterred.
Then I found my mom and told her the same. When my sister joined us, I explained to them that surely his antler would be here somewhere–that all we had to do was look. So we split up again and began searching. Finally, I saw an antler sitting in another section and I was overjoyed. We huddled back together and realized: this wasn’t this reindeer’s antler. There must be another reindeer out there!
I was determined. I had fallen in love with one, and I knew another was sitting somewhere, missing his antler too. I had to find him.
And find him I did. I found another reindeer with both knees intact, but missing not one, but two antlers. This was a tragedy. What was I to do? I had two broken, unloved reindeer and I did not want to leave them behind. And at this point, there were no more antlers lying around.
I cradled both reindeer and walked them around with me in the store as I pondered the situation. These reindeer were $5 a piece. Was I willing to pay $10 for two broken reindeer? Maybe the cashier would give me both for the price of one (which was already 75% marked down).
No, she would not. That was the price – $5 a piece for both – and she was sticking to it.
I was in agony. Was I supposed to choose? I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. My mom looked over at me and said, “You need to take them home. You’ve formed a bond.” I knew she was right, and that I’d regret it if I didn’t. I sent their photo to my husband with the following message: I can’t leave a wounded warrior behind.
So I took them both. I paid the price for my two wounded warriors of Christmas toys, and I brought them to my parent’s house where we were staying for the weekend. I proudly showed them to my dad, and based on the look he gave me he thought I was nuts too. Two reindeer with only two antlers between them and a broken knee. But to me, they were perfect.
But my dad obviously liked them too because he took them and wrapped their wounds and glued back their one antler each. Then I named one and he named the other: Wally and Leroy.
Wally and Leroy traveled back home with me a few days later and they didn’t fare well. Both antlers fell off and one arm became detached too.
I was, still, undeterred.
I glued everything back. And then I made them Christmas hats and necklaces.
They were perfect to me before, and they are even more perfect to me now. Wally and Leroy are my Wounded Warriors of Christmas Toys, and I love them dearly. And truly, there’s nothing a little love won’t fix.
Do you agree?
Merry Christmas, everyone.