sorry, yogi!
When I was a kid I had one of those blow up cartoon characters with sand in the bottom that you were supposed to punch and would pop right back up again. Mine was a yogi bear one and I felt so bad hitting it that I kept it in my closet and would peek at it occasionally to make sure it was alright.
x58
x6
i completely understand. my stuffed animals to me were more sacred than humans, and if i felt like if they had “suffered” any harm, it would make me quite depressed.
I once went to an amusement park, where they had a Hanna-Barbara theme, and Barney Rubble just wouldn’t leave me alone. I finally punched him in his rubber nose.