Of course, she gets to see him just about every day, but I only get to visit sometimes on the weekends and when I'm on vacation.
The thing about SweetPea's grandparents is that they're country folk. They were raised on ranches or farmland, went to school in tiny little schoolhouses, and set up their home on the family ranch, where they lived until they moved to Folsom when SweetPea was (approximately) in high school.
This is probably not that unusual for people from their time, and I'm sure this story is similar to hundreds of thousands of other stories in America. My grandparents were mostly city kids. They may have grown up on & around farms and ranch life, but they largely lived and settled in and around the Big City.
So I never had the pleasure of growing up with Tom:
Tom hangs out in Grandpa's garage. Conveniently, he's positioned right at my door when we pull into the garage. Maybe it's my city roots showing, but Tom kind of creeps me out. There's just something about him - maybe it's a look in his eyes? - that makes me feel like he's just waiting for the opportune moment to peck my eyeballs out.
As if Tom wasn't enough, once you go inside the house, you can meet Tom's good friend Cocky Wobble:
I don't know why, but Cocky Wobble weirds me out less than Tom does. Maybe it's just that it's hard to take a stuffed rooster seriously when he's got a comb and wattle made of felt.
The party doesn't end there, though. If you're brave enough to venture into the nether regions of Grandpa's house, you might be fortunate enough to meet his bedmate:
My parents thought I had a problem with stuffed animals.
At least none of mine were Stuffed Animals.
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