The Day My Mom Pulled the Ultimate Popple Betrayal

I have a Popple story—one that proves I was a terror as a child and that my mom should be canonized as a saint.

Not unlike today, I loved staying home as a kid. My couch, my TV, my family—what more did I need? But then my mom came along with some wild idea called school.

“You’re going to get up early, get dressed, and spend eight hours in a place full of other people, sitting in wooden chairs, doing work.”

No. Absolutely not. That did not sound like a me thing.

But she insisted, “Oh, it’s definitely a you thing.”

I staged a full meltdown. So, in an effort to calm me down, she made a deal: if I went to school, she’d buy me the yellow Popple.

I loved Popples. I had all of them—the big ones, the small ones, the blue, pink, and green ones—but not the yellow. And I needed that yellow Popple. So I struck a deal with Mrs. Rainbows.

The Betrayal of Yellow Popple Day

The next morning, my mom woke me up extra early. I was groggy until I remembered—it’s Yellow Popple Day.

I sat up, ready for my prize, and she pulled something from behind her back…

A pillow.

Not a Popple. A pillow with a Popple printed on it.

Blasphemy.

My reaction? Utter devastation. A betrayal of the highest order. I had another meltdown, but there was no turning back. I got dressed, got on the bus, and endured my first day of school, forever scarred by the great Popple deception of ‘86.

Redemption and a Full-Circle Moment

When I got home that afternoon, my mom was waiting—holding something behind her back.

It was the actual yellow Popple.

She had gone to the store that day and made good on her promise. If that’s not saint-level parenting, I don’t know what is. I was basically the kid from Problem Child before Problem Child even existed.

Looking back, I know my mom didn’t just give in to my tantrum—she understood me. She saw how much I was struggling and found a way to make it easier, even if it took a little trickery. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Love you, Mom.