The thing with this mad and frenzied dashing to meet deadlines is that somewhere in between, something happens to that favourite pink-and-purple polka-dotted flannel unicorn we have neglectfully left in the toy closet. And what do we do when suddenly we find out that it has decided to grow a hard and pointed horn?
“ ‘Why should he want a soft old pink-and-purple polka dotted flannel hornless unicorn? He’s said often enough that life is tough. He’s had enough cuddling from me.’
So the unicorn thought of growing up too. She decided to grow a grown-up unicorn horn. Each night as the little-boy-grown-up dreamed his money dreams, the unicorn concentrated on growing up her horn. And as time passed, the hollow in her brow later levelled out, later grew a lump, later grew a point, still later pointed out until it had become a hard and pointed horn.
The unicorn was proud. She said aloud through the closet door one night: ‘It’d all right to let me out tonight little boy, for I’ve grown a horn as hard your own hard life.’
The boy was surprised to hear the unicorn speak. She had always been so soft and meek. But he opened the door anyway and was surprised to see his pink-and-purple polka-dotted flannel friend waving a long, hard, large white horn. The horn was too long to cuddle her close. It was far too hard to nuzzle his nose against. He continued to stare and the unicorn soon realized that the stare was not a happy one.
He had grown too old to love an old toy. And she had grown too hard to be loved by the little boy still inside of him.
Ever so slowly, her hard white horn began to shrink. Down to a lump, down to a hollow and when it was gone, the rest of her followed.
First went her fuzzy ears, and then her brown eyes, and soon the rest of her pink-and-purple polka-dotted flannel body.
Before he knew it, the little-boy-grown-up had nothing but the faintest feel of old flannel left to remind him of his childhood friend.
He never saw her again.”
“ ‘Why should he want a soft old pink-and-purple polka dotted flannel hornless unicorn? He’s said often enough that life is tough. He’s had enough cuddling from me.’
So the unicorn thought of growing up too. She decided to grow a grown-up unicorn horn. Each night as the little-boy-grown-up dreamed his money dreams, the unicorn concentrated on growing up her horn. And as time passed, the hollow in her brow later levelled out, later grew a lump, later grew a point, still later pointed out until it had become a hard and pointed horn.
The unicorn was proud. She said aloud through the closet door one night: ‘It’d all right to let me out tonight little boy, for I’ve grown a horn as hard your own hard life.’
The boy was surprised to hear the unicorn speak. She had always been so soft and meek. But he opened the door anyway and was surprised to see his pink-and-purple polka-dotted flannel friend waving a long, hard, large white horn. The horn was too long to cuddle her close. It was far too hard to nuzzle his nose against. He continued to stare and the unicorn soon realized that the stare was not a happy one.
He had grown too old to love an old toy. And she had grown too hard to be loved by the little boy still inside of him.
Ever so slowly, her hard white horn began to shrink. Down to a lump, down to a hollow and when it was gone, the rest of her followed.
First went her fuzzy ears, and then her brown eyes, and soon the rest of her pink-and-purple polka-dotted flannel body.
Before he knew it, the little-boy-grown-up had nothing but the faintest feel of old flannel left to remind him of his childhood friend.
He never saw her again.”
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