It all started one day when I decided to clean out the kitchen cabinets.
You see, my grandparents bought this house in 1972. Back then, it was Gram and Grandpa, Mom, and me. And sometimes Dad, when he was on leave. Since 1972, there have always been at least 2 people living in this house. Besides me and Mom, a few cousins and one of Gram’s brothers lived here.
Until Mom passed in 2012. Since then, it’s just been me. (And, for a while, my cats.)
One day, I got the urge to clear out cabinets. I needed to see what was in there and, basically, weed out the stuff I don’t need. Gram cooked and baked like a champ. I don’t cook and bake as much, so I didn’t need everything.
As I was clearing out the cabinet above the stove, I found this little wind-up baby. I remembered it from when I was a kid. It was in that cabinet for decades. I took it out and wound it up. When I set it on the counter, it crawled two paces and stopped.
And it’s head popped right off!!
For some really, really strange reason, I didn’t want to get rid of it. It was just too delightfully creepy. I glued it’s head back on.
But, it just wasn’t weird enough for me. It needed something.
I noticed a wallaby key-chain that was given to me by a friend from Australia. “That’s it!” I thought. “Just what’s needed to make the baby even weirder and creepier. So I glued the wallaby on the back of the baby.
Wallababy was born!
In 2016, my friend Beth and I drove to Washington, DC together. She brought her travelling companion, Travel Pussy, along with her. I brought Wallababy with me.
Ever since, Wallababy is my faithful traveling companion – perched on my dashboard, keeping an eye on the road.
Yes. I know. I’m just about as weird as Wallababy.