My childhood bedroom was rife with clowns. I am not sure what my family was thinking, but nearly every inch of my small darkly paneled walls had some sort of clown on it. When I was ill with even the slightest fever it would look like they were all staring down at me, waiting for me to finally fall asleep so that they could climb out of their frames and eat my soul. When I asked why they had put up so many clowns, they told me that when I was very young, they had taken me to a park and a clown was there doing balloon animals and that when I saw him I started smiling. When hearing this I couldn’t help but mention to my Mother that maybe it was the balloon animals and for some reason that cracked her up.
I guess I was lucky that they didn’t decide I loved clowns when I was born or they probably would have gotten me this Peekaboo Crib Clown. I can only imagine the bills I would be paying for clown-related psychological therapy.
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