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When you have eight grandchildren, there is bound to be a request or two that seem a little out of the realm of reality. When I was asked to bring back a baby black bear as a souvenir, I reacted as though it was something anyone would do. I figured I had a week on a cruise ship to figure it out.
And figure it out we did. In Skagway we managed to find a cardboard box just about the size a really small baby bear might fit in. I put a little newspaper in the bottom and then got truly creative.
We had packed some candy to nibble on as we traveled and in the bag was a couple of midget Tootsie Rolls. I stuck them in my jeans pocket while I did my morning walk on the ship. By the time I got back they were warm and pliable. I stretched them a bit and molded them and stuck them to the newspaper in the bottom of the box. Voila! Bear poop!
I tore a hole in the top of the box to look like that was the escape route of our baby bear and readied myself for all the questions I knew I would get when we arrived with our missing souvenir. (In all fairness, I did buy a small stuffed black bear as a substitute.)
The box was received with awe. Not one of them thought I would really get a bear. I apologized for the missing bear saying I had no idea where it went. When they looked inside, they saw the "bear poop" which elicited several "eewwws."
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My granddaughter would not be fooled so easily however. Several time she sniffed the box and then stuck her pencil in a "turd" and sniffed it. When she was satisfied, she took a big bite out of the turd and sent her siblings screaming to their mother, "She ate bear poop!"
When they realized it was chocolate, I was afraid they might be upset with me but they looked at me with a twinkle in their eyes. They knew they'd been had but they were enjoying the ruse and besides, now they had a Grandma who could teach them how to make bear poop.
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