Creepy.....

I am terrified of animatronic toys. Beginning with good ol' Teddy Ruxpin when I was a child, the idea of an inanimate object talking and interacting with me goes against everything I stand for as far as my own mental health goes.

Tickle me Elmo. (Any of the interactive Elmo toys, really.) Aside from being the most annoying sounding toy on the planet, scary.

Furbies. Like gremlins on crack, they giggled and twittered me right into the fetal position. Ugh.

Robosapien. One of the kids I used to nanny for had one of these, and loved it. I wanted to put it in the closet and drink heavily after it wolf whistled at me.

Aibo, Robopet....They all make me want to hide.

FurReal Friends Cat, RoboReptile, Butterscotch the Pony.

And now....RoboPanda. Really?? I mean, come on.

They've already ruined dogs, cats, tribbles, and now the noble panda?

I understand the allure of these toys. They are, if you can get past the terror, kind of cool from a technology aspect. My father thought they were neat, simply because when he was a kid Lincoln Logs hadn't even been invented yet. This is the man that used to sing the praises of the microwave to anyone who would listen. TiVo about made him faint when I explained it to him. From that point of view, they are amazing.

One of the scariest things for me is the idea that there is something small and manevolent in my house, hiding, waiting to attack me. That scene in Aliens when the face hugger is in the medical bay, hiding and chasing Sigourney Weaver and the kid whose name I don't remember? So. Terrifying.

Understanding that the worst damage a Furby could do to me is kill me by annoyance, or cause me to trip over it and break a bone, I'm still afraid. I don't want to walk leisurely down my hall and have a small, disembodied voice giggle at me. I don't want a robotic panda bear to wave and ask me if I want to play. I don't want Elmo to laugh hysterically and beg me to dance, limbo, or do the YMCA.

It makes me feel as though I have lost my mind. Like reality has somehow shifted beneath me, and I am in the Toys 'R Us in hell.

T's youngest brother was terrified of the animatronic Godzilla toy they had as a kid. I'm sure everyone remembers this toy--A hard plastic Godzilla doll, about a foot high. If you pressed a button on it's back, it would screech, shoot sparks and smoke. Granted, A the baby brother was about a year old and the thing was nearly as big as he was, and he did have 8 elder siblings to torture him with it--But I feel his pain. Actually, I feel worse for him than for me, as he had recently discovered what his feet were for and suddenly there is a robotic, demonic screeching monster chasing him down the stairs. I have a good grasp on reality (most of the time, anyway) and understand what is and is not supposed to happen therein and can understand that Elmo truly does not mean me any harm.

It doesn't make me like the damn things, though.