Care Bear Twilight Zone

One of the more surreal moments of our summer:

My daughters are playing with a stuffed Care Bear on the dining room table. It's a remarkably sedate game. Care Bear, aka "Lover Bear," is sitting up on the table, wearing some bracelets and rubber bands on his arms, and the girls are seated on either side, poking at him and talking.

I am trying to clean up the house. It's a small house, so I walk by the kids and Care Bear every minute or so.

"Hey, Mom."

"Yep."

"My Care Bear can talk."

"Really?" I lean in for a listen. I feel like I hear a vague "hello," but it could be the first grader, ventriloquizing.

Then I hear it. A mechanical "hello."

I look at my daughter. "Is this a talking Care Bear?"

It's a small stuffed animal, with no bells and whistles, as far as I knew. "Are you pushing a button somewhere?"

"No, Mom! But it talks!"

"Hello."

What the heck? I look incredulously at my daughter, who nods at me like, "I know!"

I pick up the Care Bear to better determine just what transformation has taken place, and how.

On the table right where Lover Bear's bum sat lies my work cell phone...and it's hanging up a call.

I grab the phone, click on "History," and find that Lover Bear butt-dialed our security guard from school.

Happy Summer, dude!