Brittany and Simba - Suzi Stone (best selling autobiographies .TXT) 📗

As I struggled with a small tub of popcorn and a drink in one hand, Brittany, my three year old was yanking on my other hand. She was trying to slip out of it by yanking on it even harder. My friend Suzy just smiled as we walked into one of the small theaters. Suzy put the small booster seat down while I tried hard to keep from spilling everything on her. Brittany climbed into her seat; her big brown eyes sparkled as she smiled.
“Treat?”
“Hold on.” I sighed getting ready to sit down.
“Here," Suzy offered sitting down next to Brittany, "Let me."
She handed the little one the container of popcorn while a chubby little hand reached in.
“What do you say?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Thank you.” came a muffled reply.
“Not with your mouth full.”
“Oh relax, mom.” Suzy laughed.
The lights dimmed and I wondered how Brittany was going to handle the dark. We came to see Walt Disney's The Lion King

. Brittany wiggled in her seat and stuffed more popcorn into her mouth. The second she saw Simba, the tiny lion, she froze. Concerned, I gently nudged Suzy.
“Is she okay?”
Suzy looked over at her, then at me, and nodded. Five minutes later, Brittany still hadn't moved. Again I nudged Suzy who assured me once again that she was okay. By the fifth time, Suzy sighed.
“Will you just watch the movie, you worry wart? She's fine!”
For the next hour and a half Brittany did not move an inch and I don't think I watched much of the movie. I was amazed that she sat still for five minutes let alone an hour and a half.
On the way home all Brittany could talk about was Simba. Simba this, Simba that. For Christmas that year guessed what she asked Santa for? A little lion named Simba.
Her eyes lit up when she saw Simba lying under the Christmas tree. She snatched him up into her little arms and hugged him like there was no tomorrow.
Brittany would carry Simba by his tail everywhere she went until one horrible day when she looked down and found that he was not there. With tears in her eyes she tugged on her Daddy alarming him of the situation. He called me at my house wondering if I had seen Simba. If we could we would have called the police and had a search party looking for him. Hell, we would have had the police call out an APB looking for that little lion. Luckily, someone had found Simba in the parking lot of my ex-husband's apartment building and put Simba on the back of a parked truck. Brittany covered him with kisses even though her dad warned her to stop since no one knew where he had been. She didn't care because she had him and that's all that mattered. Ever since that day she has carried him tightly in her arms just in case.
Every Christmas would be Simba's birthday. We would get a cupcake (chocolate, of course) and put a candle in it. We would sing "Happy Birthday" and watch as 'Mommy' Brittany would help Simba blow the candles out. Simba would even receive a gift or two.
One day I was getting the laundry ready when I took a look at Simba. He looked more brown then his usual golden yellow. So I announced that Simba needed a bath. Brittany looked at me suspiciously, then at him.
“No he doesn't.”
“It's okay Brit.”
“Where's he taking a bath?” She eyed the washing machine as if it was going to eat her and Simba up.
“I'm going to put him in here like I do with the other stuffed animals.”
“No.”
“Brittany, come on. Simba will be fine”, I held out a pillow case. “Look we'll put him in here.”
She looked into the pillow case then at Simba.
“He's scared.”
"He'll be fine”, I assured. “Then, you both can have a treat when he's done. If he's a good boy that is.”
“K.”
She lowered Simba into the pillow case and watched me tie a knot at the top. She patted the lump.
“It's okay Simba, don't cry.”
I carefully put Simba into the washing machine and turned it on. Brittany plopped herself down in front of it and waited for the entire fifteen minute cycle. For a child that's a life time.
“Mommy!” Brittany hollered as the washing machine alarm buzzed.
She watched as I lifted the lid. I smiled for there staring back at me was a cute, little, now golden lion.
“Simba!" I laughed, looking into the washing machine. "Look, he climbed out of the pillow case!”
Brittany giggled and stood on her tippy toes to look in. She watched as I pulled him out of the washer, put him back into the pillow case, and into the dryer. A few head thumps later and Brittany could not take it anymore.
“Mommy!”
I rushed down downstairs and pulled the now injured Simba out of the dryer and into the awaiting arms of his 'Mommy'.
“Oh Simba!” I exclaimed looking at the still wet laundry.
“What?” Brittany asked, hugging him tightly.
“He threw up all over the clothes. Yuck”. I made a face at her.
“Good boy Simba,” Brittany announced with pride. Then, she held him up to me. “Mommy, can you dry him off? He's all wet.”
Needless to say that was last time I put Simba in the dryer. I managed to put him in the washer a couple of more times but then resorted to hand washing since he kept throwing up in the washer all the time.
I was sitting down watching TV when Brittany, who was now five or six, ran into the room with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Mommy, look what Debbie did!”
I looked down at Simba and noticed that the little patch of hair that was suppose to be a mane one day was no longer there. Brittany used to play with it and brush it. Now, there was nothing to brush.
“Debbie cut his hair and told me it would grow back!”
“Debbie!”
Debbie, her older sister by two and half years, came into the room and looked at me then at Brittany. She was holding a pair of scissors in her right hand.
“Did you tell your sister that Simba's hair would grow back?”
“No”, said Debbie while looking at the floor.
“Did too!”
“Debbie... Give me the scissors, quit cutting the hair off of your dolls, and don't touch Simba!”
To this day Simba's hair hasn't grown back. The girls' look back on that day and laugh. Brittany always saying that Simba will be the only lion that will not have a mane thanks to his Aunty Debbie.
Approximately six years ago, a store opened where a child could build his or her own teddy bear. This teddy bear could also be clothed with different outfits and accessories. Sure enough I was there buying outfits and shoes for a little lion. Not only did he have a bigger wardrobe then me; he also had a tent, a backpack, even his own video game system! This lion had it all. A year or so later when I decided to get married a second time, he even had a tux for the event.
As I write this I look back to when Brittany was playing upstairs with her sister in their room. I don't remember what Simba did but, boy, did he make Brittany mad.
“That's a bad boy, Simba”, Brittany scolded. “Now, you sit on your bed and do not move! No, don't you cry with me! Now sit there and don't you dare touch a toy!”
I listened to Simba wailing and Brittany scolding him some more. I looked up at the ceiling horrified. Did I really sound like that? I know children imitate what they hear but I don't sound like that, do I?
While I watched Brittany grow, it seemed like Simba grew with her. She loves rock-n-roll and he likes it too. But he also likes some rap that not even Brittany can stand. He has his own personality as well which, ironically enough, matches the real Simba in the movies. This discovery came about when Debbie purchased a small hand-held video game system: the Nintendo DS. There was a Disney game that she bought which had Simba in it. The game said that Simba could be stubborn and arrogant at times until you played with him enough for him to be your friend. Brittany's Simba is the same way.
Even though Brittany is not three and does not carry him around all the time he is never far from her reach. She could be on the computer, watching TV, and he is right there on the couch. She still totes him from my house to her father's. Even on her Facebook profile, she is holding him and giving him a big kiss.
He has been there when she was rushed to the hospital to have her appendix removed; when she met her first love and helped her through her first heartbreak. Even our German Shepherd, Sandra, knows not to touch him. She will sniff him and then move along.
Brittany just nods and says, “Yep, you know better don't you, kitty?”
By 'kitty' she means our dog. Why she calls our dog 'kitty' is beyond any of us. Of course I think Sandra knows better. God help her if she ever did anything to Simba.
Brittany is now seventeen and preparing to graduate from high school soon. As I sit here and write this I cannot believe how the years have flown by. This past Christmas we celebrated Simba's fifteenth birthday.
For her graduation I know I will be getting a cap and gown not just for Brittany, but for Simba as well. I know he will be in my arms or her sister's as she walks to receive her diploma.