I’m a grown woman, a corporate executive—with a pink monkey in her office. He hangs there from one arm, attached to my cubicle wall with a Velcro hand. He stares at me with those goofy eyes. He warms me inside.
Toys at work? How unprofessional.
I smile. It’s not just a toy. It never really was a toy to me at all. There is a heart embroidered on his belly, and he’s pink. My favorite color.
My son won a prize at school. “Pick anything you want.”
He saw that pink monkey, with a heart on its chest.
His mother’s favorite color.
He could have taken an airplane. He could have taken a super ball. But he picked up the pink monkey, and bought it home.
He gave it to me… for no reason.
“I love you Mommy.”
“I love you too, Baby.”
No, it’s not a toy.
The monkey stays.