To prove their love and devotion, my kids will often let me sleep with stuffed animals carefully chosen from among their vast stores.
It’s a little like paying tribute but without the volcano. One daughter will even hold out the proffered gift, head bowed, and back away, still bent at the waist, arms out. She’s a silly one. I don’t know where she gets it.
Lately the girls have been on a rabbit kick, so the space between Husband’s and my pillows has become filled with Thumper, Hopper, Flopper, and friends.
Husband said, “Why do there seem to be more animals here instead of less?”
I pointed out the obvious. “They’re rabbits, honey. Multiplying is what they do.”
Plus, I seem to be forgetting to give the animals back.
Here’s a related excerpt from Be a Happier Parent or Laugh Trying:
My children have approximately 3.7 million stuffed animals. On my birthday I was presented with coupons to sleep with this or that animal for one, maybe even two(!) weeks. Before I had Baby Joe as my 6 a.m. alarm clock, I would occasionally (read: daily) wake up after my girls. When I’d hear them coming to get me, I’d grab whatever chosen animal I was loaned at the time and snuggle it under my arm like it had been there all night. Their squeals of delight earned me major bonus points.
I’m also pleased to announce that my book is available at Target.com. Who knew?!
Do you have any fond memories involving stuffed animals? I admit that a few of my childhood furry friends have remained with me into adulthood. They are especially cherished by my girls.