Visiting the folk’s home has been a frolic, but also full of nostalgia. I can’t open a drawer without finding some lost item or knickknack unseen for decades. I found Brother #3’s baby pillow and #2’s books. While rummaging through the shelf above the stove (looking for some matches) I came across this item:


This little bunny mug was my first ‘big boy’ cup. I must have received it when I was about four. I have not seen it in maybe fifty years. It is one of those things if you asked me directly I would have no memory of such, but upon laying eyes on the cup, I instantly recalled it. I asked Mother if there was some sort of story behind it. Perhaps the cup was an heirloom from some distant relation or had been purposely chosen among a myriad of mugs to be my special sipping mug.  All she could remember was one of her friends (she didn’t know which) gave it to me as a when she mentioned I was old enough to handle such.  She remembered too it was the receptacle out of which I drank cocoa. I would not use anything else.  Sometimes out of whimsy I had some Campbell’s Chicken Noodle (or Star) soup. Then I was too young for tea; she did not remember bunny mug being used for such.

Considering I drop and break everything I own (given enough time), the intact mug is a sort of miracle.

Needless to say I got all warm and runny inside over the notion Mother had saved it.

Throughout the holiday weekend I was Tea-master to wit I continually made tea to serve the troops. They all got china cups and saucers, but I drank from my bunny mug. I was pleased as punch.

Mother thinks I should take the mug back to AZ, but I think not. I like the notion of it staying ‘in the past’, here in MI, waiting for me when I next visit. Using it was a pleasant perk to a splendid Christmas weekend.

Do Spo-fans have a precious childhood object? Do tell.


*Actually she saves nearly everything. She gets this from her Mother’s side . It’s all that Nordic blood, I dare say.  

UPDATE! I found these two bowls. How funny is memory. I remember the mug but don’t recall the bowls. Mother remembers we ate our cereal from them, Brother #2 and I.