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My grandmother will routinely find stuff at yard sales or Goodwill and then bring it home and gift my children with these finds. Which I’m usually cool with. But I came home from my conference last weekend to find these soulless hell beasts staring at me from my dining room table. Which had a bunch of dishes on it because, you know, I was at conference and I’m the only person in the house capable of putting dishes in the fucking sink. That was the least of my troubles when I saw this, though. I thought my husband was pulling a cruel prank on me.<\/div>\n
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I got myself some dinner, then came out of the kitchen to find them doing this:<\/div>\n![](\"http:\/\/jennytrout.files.wordpress.com\/2012\/11\/d8a16-img_3555.jpg\")
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Just about the only thing creepier than a resin sculpture of innocent-looking children with vacant, vaguely hopeful expressions is the same thing, but staring at the wall like this is the end of the goddamned Blair Witch Project. Since I am easily startled, this got quite a reaction out of me.<\/div>\n
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And yes, this time, it was my husband playing a creepy, awful trick on me.<\/div>\n
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Later, as I sat in my office, reflecting over the good times I’d had that weekend, my daughter – who is completely enamored of this horrible sculpture, comes in and says, “My children want paper. My children want to color.” I’m like, “Your children?” and then I look out my office door and, through the smudges on the glass, I see this:<\/div>\n
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