Most days we hardly notice him. Though he is a transparent lime green he seems part of the space now. To be honest I'm impressed with his resilience; he has hung precariously by one wing since he was catapulted onto our ceiling. Let me elaborate on his humble beginning.
Our bat was a Target dollar bin impulse buy, purchased for my two toddlers to place on our front bay windows along with an array of other fall themed window clings: pumpkins and brooms and candy corn. My fun loving husband decided one weekend to teach our toddlers how to fling said decorations across the room, making them stick onto the windows. This game lasted through the weekend when the kids eventually decided the decor would also look pretty great on the ceiling. They were even more delighted when they found all the clings liked the ceiling view as well.
Fast forward to our lone bat. The other clings were quickly pulled down and thrown away after much use. The bat, hidden in a lonely corner, was in for one last hurrah courtesy of my almost 2 year old. Once discovered his fate was set, to the ceiling he would be banished.
So I, annoyed at this game that my beloved had taught my children, resolved to leave it there until he took it down. After all, it was his game that encouraged this result, right? So here we are at the end of January. There he sits, and it looks like there he will stay. That annoyance has faded to amusement. Now it's a fun memory every time that lime green catches my eye. Perched on the ceiling, our bat has been privy to lots of great memories and growth and tears and learning.
I'd like to think that some of the little things that annoy me or grate on me now will eventually fade to that same amusement when I look back. Fondly will I recall silly dances and obsessions and sweet sticky hugs. For now, our friendly bat reminds me to let the little things go for they will all eventually end in their own time.