The Saga of the Furberries

Sometime back in May Noggin and Nickelodeon began showing commercials for a stuffed animal called a "Furberry". They were apparently, stuffed bears, dogs, and cats, that rolled up into a giant fruit and smelled of the fruit they rolled into. They played these commercials at least once an hour, every hour. If the TV was on for more then a half hour, you can bet that a Furberry commercial was soon to air.
Mayhem was smitten.
In a big way.
In a HUGE way.
Frankly, it was the most adorable, heartfelt nagging we have ever been subject to.
"Mommy, can I have a Furberry?"
"We'll see."
"Mommy! I found a money! Is it enough to buy a Furberry?"
Clutching her found money, a single dirty penny, in her fist, she handed her worldly wealth over to me.
"Baby. I will talk to Daddy. We'll see where we can get one tonight."
Budget be damned. That baby was getting a Furberry.
One problem.
The damn things weren't on the market yet.
I couldn't get a hold of one for love or money, and there was no info anywhere on when they'd actually be on the market.
Through a little research, we found out who made them. And under guise of being a small boutique toy store, Smart Ass went to work.
They apparently wouldn't be ready for market until the new fiscal year, which for that company, was August/September.
Those bastards advertised this toy, heavy rotation style, 4 full months before these damn things would hit store shelves.
That kind of cruelty should've been outlawed in the Geneva Convention.
So we tell our small and sweet little Mayhem, "Honey bee, the Furberries aren't being made yet. But they should be ready in time for your birthday!"
"They don't make the Furberries?"
"Not yet baby."
"I found another money. We should put it away to get a Furberry."
BASTARDS!
The next five months were torture for us. Every time little Mayhem came running to us, a look of joy on her face, with a grubby penny laying in the center of her hand, asking, "Do we have enough money for a Furberry now?" I would mist up, and choking back tears I would say, "Baby, don't you worry about the money ok? When the Furberries are in stores, I promise you, you will have one."
And poor Smart Ass. Every night, he'd be greeted at the door with a "Daddy! Did you bring me home a Furberry?!"
It gutted us.
I have been checking major toy store websites every single day since then.
On Tuesday, I hit paydirt.
2 Furberries are on their way to our house. One Strawberry puppy, and one Cherry Bear. (Because Havoc will need one if Mayhem has one)
He has already been named.
"Pup"
She is planning on taking him out to the backyard when he gets here. So he can "go pee pee". Because dogs don't use the bathroom.
I swear, on all that I hold dear, if I ever meet the marketing jerk who thought it'd be a great idea to create "buzz" about Furberries before they were even close to hitting the market, he will crawl away from that meeting sore, bruised, and bloodied, but with a much clearer idea of why he should not do that.