Monchhichi, Monchhichi

As I stated in my previous post, I recently celebrated a birthday. Last Sunday, we had our monthly birthday celebration at my parents' house. Dinner was eaten, cake was distributed and the time came to open gifts. My nephew, Isaac, went first, as he shares the month with me. Then came my turn. As my older sis, Nicole, handed me her gift, my brother-in-law moved quickly, prepping his Nikon, giggling all the way. He kept saying, "We have the BEST gift for you!" As if the Michael Jackson vinyl bag wasn't enough, there were 3 other wrapped gifts inside. I started with the locket that my sister made (vintage and beautiful!)--still no camera shots, only giggling. Then came the Amara spa gift card. I would have been fine and good with any ONE of these gifts and gushed over each one, in turn. Still, eyes on me. I proclaimed my thanks all the way and still brother-in-law says, "That's not even the best one." Alas, I came to the last one, and this was my reaction:



And why? Because this is what I got!



Does anyone else out there remember Monchhichis? Not only did I have one growing up, carrying it most places I went, but somehow along the road I picked up the nickname. I was a thumb-sucker, so that may have been why, but it stuck even in grade-school. There was a teacher in our rural Missouri elementary that one day received a very surprising and loud epiphany. As I walked toward her in the school hallway, she gasped and said, "I've just realized what you remind me of! You're my little Monchhichi!" From then on she, and a few others, could be found calling me Melody Monchhichi. I guess back in the day there may have been an unfortunate resemblance. What do you think?



Thanks guys for bringing back some painful, I mean, GREAT childhood memories!