It seems I made a rookie mistake by welcoming the small (3 foot) Bigfoot statue into our garden. Sweetums so thoughtfully bought the statue so we could officially have a Bigfoot at our wedding. (I’ll wait while you all say, “Awwwww.”) He also realized being a part of the wedding meant it now held sentimental value. So I didn’t mind at all placing the little guy in our front garden. He is kinda cute.
Ditto the Loch Ness Monster. After all, Sweetums bought Nessie on our honeymoon so, again, sentimental. Later, he added the foot-tall Easter Island Head, the mooning gnome and the Bigfoot footprints, whereas I tend to think of silver charms as sentimental souvenirs of our travels.
Until now, having every delivery driver who ever passed our house comment on my yard art has not caused me too much trouble. The real problem is that Sweetums, like Pavlov’s dog, has been conditioned. He thinks he can just bring home random concrete art. After he went on a day trip Sunday with our littlest boy (a 6-foot-tall 14-year-old), Sweetums said, “If the place hadn’t been closed, I would have brought home a concrete Godzilla.”
Nooooooooo! Just no, y’all. I’ve been more than generous, don’t you think? Then again, maybe I can use this to my advantage. Say, trade permission for the concrete Godzilla for a new sofa. Or a car.
Or maybe I should just give up and put the statue below in our front yard, if the City of Tokyo will part with him.