It’s simple mathematics, really.

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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.

bunnies

Five stuffed rabbits, one bear, and one Alf in an apron and chef’s hat.

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. πŸ€·β€β™‚οΈ

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.

41 responses »

  1. I was a deprived child. I only had one stuffed animal, Teddy, the teddy bear. I never parted with him at bed time. Sadly Teddy ran away from home when I was ten and I’ve not seen him since (at least that’s what mother said).

    So while I didn’t have a stuffed animal to share with my parents, I did have a Tony the Tiger spoon that I would often let my father use at dinner time (at breakfast, the spoon was mine).

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: It’s simple mathematics, really. β€” parentingisfunny – Sally's Blog

  3. Your kids are THE best. How wonderful they want their animals to be with you.

    I have no great stuffed animal stories other than there were thousands of them in our lifetime. What’s not to love about an army of stuffed softness to watch over your kids and cushion their toddling hind ends as they learn to walk?

    Liked by 1 person

  4. First, congrats on having your book at Target.com! Woo-hoo!

    Heh, stuffed animals. My daughter has more stuffed animals than books–wait, no, pretty sure she has more books. I think. Never had the kids tuck stuffed animals in our bed, though. My daughter would have a whole pile of them on her bed all the time, even when sleeping. Growing up I first had a stuffed Winnie the Pooh with a windup music box in it that played the Winnie-the-Pooh theme song (you know, Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh, chubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff…). Then somewhere along the way Pooh lost his little red shirt, and I wound up with (stole??) a teddy bear from my sister when she was too little to know she even had it.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m going to have that Winnie the Pooh song in my head all day now. πŸ˜‰
      I love how it’s the fellow writers on here who are commenting on the Target thing. Such a great sisterhood to understand/share in that delight. πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Aww. So cute. My grandson made “loveys” for Grampy and me. When he’s not here, the loveys sit on top of the bureau, but when he’s visiting they’re always in bed, heads on the pillows, covers pulled up. He is so delighted to see them there. πŸ™‚ And congrats on landing in Target! Woo hoo!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Right, about Target?! I have no idea how it got there. Well, okay, marketing people, I guess, but still! I wonder who all comes across it and buys it.
      It is rather fun to snuggle with a soft, furry animal. On the rare occasion when I actually do grab one and tuck under my arm and chin, I think my husband gets jealous. πŸ˜‰

      Like

  6. My youngest daughter loved stuffed animals (in her 40’s now she still has a box of her stuffed animals in her basement that she swears she is going to give away someday). When we took her with us at 15 to go to the Philippines as missionaries she wanted a stuffed zebra to take with her. My husband searched everywhere to find one. Finally, he found one at a mall in St Louis where it was very expensive. I was a little unhappy that he spent so much money on a stuffed animal when we were trying to live cheaply as missionaries. But it was money well spent. She carried it with her on the plane and she still cherishes it today.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Wolfie you already know about. I think he writes here sometimes when I’m not looking, so if you’ve read any odd stuff that purported to be from me, be skeptical. But, inspired by your mention of your own that you kept into adulthood and became cherished by your children, I must now write of J.A. Elmer.

    I never knew of Elmer until I was an older child, at which point our parents, feeling they could finally trust us with him I guess, introduced him as a courting gift Daddy had presented to Mother. “J.A.” stood for Jackass, and he’d clearly suffered the ravages of time. Mother then sewed a piece back on him, and he stayed in the toy chest most of the time, I suppose as elder statesman to the likes of Wolfie, Emmet Kelly, and so on, who were semi-retired by then themselves. One didn’t play or otherwise trifle with J.A. Elmer, but somehow he managed to lose some further parts.

    Much, much later, Mother had died, and Daddy had retired to Florida and remarried, and I brought Elmer to what I took to be his rightful home with him and Margrit. Daddy explained scornfully to her that Elmer had been my childhood toy and expressed disgust that I would still have him, and I had to contradict him, like didn’t he remember that Elmer had been his and Mother’s, and had not been our childhood toy, but something from his own adulthood? So I left Elmer parked there, where he twisted in what I thought was a cute way on a shelf, peering around a corner even with no eyes but a smiling mouth.

    Next time I visited, Elmer was gone. Margrit explained that he’d been in bad condition and that she’d attempted to clean him in the washing machine, whereupon he’d fallen apart irretrievably.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Pingback: It’s simple mathematics, really. β€” parentingisfunny – saleemkpk

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