When my brothers and I were kids, we tried to convince my parents that there should be mythical gift-bearing creatures associated with non-gift holidays: the Thanksgiving Rat, for example.
With this history of attempting to cheat my way into extra toys, I casually suggested to my husband this morning that there should be a Purple Day Gnome who brings presents to people with epilepsy. You know, to make up for the other 364 days of the year.
Always the voice of reason, his response was a simple “that makes no sense.”
“Yes,” I insisted, “it makes perfect sense. The Purple Day Gnome comes and jumps around in one’s brain, causing seizures. Maybe I’ll write a children’s book about this.”
“I’M NOT FINISHED. He’s almost always evil, so on Purple Day, he brings gifts to apologize for all the neurological havoc he normally wreaks.”
I’m so weird. (Also, I was kidding about writing a kid’s book about a seizure gnome. I’m not that horrible.)
For the record, he’s done some damage today—a complex partial seizure—but has yet to pull through on the gift front.
GD you, Purple Day Gnome.
And Happy Purple Day, all!