Let's be alone together

For my 28^th birthday, my mom gave me a soft little stuffed bunny.

…Let me start over.

 

My 28^th birthday occurred while I was about 4 months pregnant. My mom was a little bit sheepish about the stuffed bunny, explaining that she hadn’t planned to get a gift for the baby and give it to me on my birthday, but it was just so cute and soft with such floppy ears. She showed me how she imagined her grandchild holding the bunny by its ear to drag it around and how he or she might enjoy brushing its soft fur against their cheek.

Several months later, that very bunny was named Eggy (after the sound of pure glee Liam would burst our with when presented said bunny: “Eh-GHEEE!”) and had surpassed all other toys to become his clear favorite.

I cannot tell you how happy it makes me, knowing this little stuffed animal my mother had not been able to pass up in the store has become his go-to toy. He carries her around by her ear just like Mom thought he might, and when he’s sleepy or upset or just needs a little comfort, he grips her ear in his little fingers and brushes her fur back and forth across his cheek or lips. I don’t know if it counts, but technically “Eggy” was, for a long time, the only word he knew how to say. It might even have been the first one he understood when we said it, but only as it applies to his favorite snuggle buddy.

As any parent out there probably knows, these favorite toys tend to get rather filthy. Eggy made

it over one year before Kurt announced that she was getting her first bath. She was covered with bits of baby food, had been spat up on, and had come in contact with a dirty diaper or two. She smelled terrible. It was definitely time.

The question was, how were we going to keep Eggy away from Liam for the time it would take to wash and dry her? A quick read-through of her tag informed that she would require a hand wash and would have to air dry. That would take at least a day. How would Liam go at least 24 hours without her? We were both quite unsure as to how this was going to work.

Luckily, one of Kurt’s coworkers gave him some unsolicited advice that was actually very helpful. A veteran parent, he listened to Kurt confirming that our 14-month-old already had a favorite toy. “You’re going to need a backup,” he said knowingly. “Just in case you lose the first one.” Perfect! We set about finding a backup Eggy to be a substitute so we could wash the original. Fake Eggy, or “Feggy,” as she is called, finally arrived, and we made the swap. Liam was not entirely convinced, but was not the basket case we had feared.

My brother-in-law, Jason, shared a story with me last summer. Apparently, his daughter Ava also had a favorite stuffed animal, which she called her Lovey. Unfortunately, Lovey went missing, and so Jason and his wife (Kurt’s sister Carolyn) did what any parent would do and got a replacement Lovey. It was the same exact toy, just a newer one, and they were sure Ava would never know.

When Ava went to bed that night, she asked for Lovey and they gave her the new one, hoping she wouldn’t know the difference. Ava considered this new toy, and then held it between her thumb and forefinger, back out to her parents. “This is clean Lovey,” she explained. “I want yucky lovey.”

Liam is a bit too young at this point to really be able to tell the difference between “Feggy” and “Reggy” (Real Eggy), but I’m sure we have a similar conversation in our future. For now, it’s working out pretty well.

Liam, Eggy, and new
friend Leo the Lion

:::edit:::

Here I am, several months later, to let you know that Liam now knows the difference between Eggy and Feggy—our only helpful discovery in this new, more discerning world, is that replacing a discarded Eggy with Feggy (and quickly washing Eggy in the bathroom sink behind closed doors so that she may dry as quickly as possible) seems to keep the little one happy. We’ll see how long that lasts..