Writer's Block: Toys in the attic

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I actually had quite a few "security friends" growing up. Piggy, a stuffed pig made of soft pink flannel I received at birth, and my white blanket Blanky were my Bedtime Friends I needed each night to go to sleep, but my mom forbade me from removing them from my room to prevent Missing Bedtime Friend Trauma. (A wise choice, as I have spent many a stressful babysitting session scouring the house for missing Bedtime Friends-- and my cousin went through the horror of leaving his in a hotel and losing him for good!). I had a Cookie Monster doll and a separate but similar Blanky as my Bedtime Friends at the lake. I also had a Storm Friend in the form of a plush Piglet doll, who usually hung out in a basket with my other daytime toys and only came to visit my bed on stormy evenings so he could sing a song from the show Welcome to Pooh Corner about overcoming one's fears which would make me feel braver.

However, my Traveling Friends (those I kept with me at all times, or as much as Mom would let me) were first Baby, and then Bunny-Long-Legs-- and then Bunny-Long-Legs II. Baby was a baby doll with a soft body that squeaked and a plastic head; she was actually very old and had belonged to my mom when she was a girl, and maybe that has something to do with why her head tasted so interesting. (I used to suck on her head a lot and I remember the flavor vividly, lol). I carried Baby when I was very small, before I could fully talk-- which is really early since my mom swears I had a high schooler's vocabulary by age one. (And before that I apparently spoke Japanese*). My dad still likes to quote how I would ask him to play one of my favorite games, watching him build a house of cardboard blocks for Baby: "Baby 'OUSE? Baby 'OUSE?"

*According to my mom, I used to speak in sentence-like structures that sounded Japanese. She was often so surprised at how deliberate and language-like I sounded that without thinking she'd often ask, "What?" and I'd repeat the same thing again the exact same way. Then apparently one night we all went out to eat and I spoke in front of an Asian waitress-- and she looked at my parents, perplexed, and asked, "She speaks Japanese?" Probably she didn't speak Japanese herself and, like my mom, just thought it sounded similar, but I really wish my parents had some video of me talking because now that I speak Japanese-- again?-- I'd love to verify. It certainly would bolster my theory of having been Japanese in another life!

However, while I still cared for Baby, Bunny-Long-Legs soon replaced her as my main traveling security friend. I received Bunny-Long-Legs the Easter I was two. My parents have a framed photograph of me holding him for the first time, sitting on the Easter Bunny's Lap at Easter brunch. As befitting his name, he is a bunny of short brown and white blush with long legs, wearing green cotton overalls with pink fabric buttons. He has a looped red cord coming out of his head (to hang him up?), but my parents cut it so I wouldn't tangle my fingers in it.

However, I didn't take Bunny-Long-Legs everywhere. He came with me all over the house, into the yard, and to some public places, but, ever terrified of Bunny-Long-Legs encountering some terrible accident-- and wanting to encourage pro-social behavior-- I was not allowed to bring Bunny-Long-Legs with me to preschool. I left him in my carseat every morning when I went into school, and he'd be sitting right there waiting when I got back in the car again a few hours later.

Considering his wanderings, by the time I was four or five Bunny-Long-Legs was in pretty bad shape. His fur was dirty and matted, his overalls discolored, buttons shriveled, stuffing emerging from seams, and his arms hanging by threads. Mom was starting to worry he might be carrying diseases. So one night when my grandmother was in town, my mom told me that Grama was going to "do some surgery" on BLL, to clean him up a little. She showed me the green cotton fabric she was going to use for his overalls and everything.

The next morning I woke up to find BLL sitting on my placemat, looking good as new. His overalls were fresh and clean and his seams airtight, though his fur was still a little matted and the red string was still cut. The only thing that seemed a little strange was that his nose was now pink and smooth instead of orange and rough, and recessed further into his face-- but I figured they had just worn it down by scrubbing at it. Life went on as usual, and it wasn't long until BLL looked just as dirty as he had before.

By elementary school I stopped carrying him around with me everywhere, and he joined Piggy and Blanky as a bedtime friend. Then one night when I was about nine, my mom came into my room with a crumpled brown bag and told me, "Amy, I have kept a terrible secret from you."

Bunny-Long-Legs (II) was right there next to me on the bed when she opened the bag to reveal (the original) Bunny-Long-Legs!

Apparently she had thought about trying to repair him herself (hence the presence of the green fabric), but ultimately decided to call the company that had made Bunny-Long-Legs in the first place. They had one bunny left in their warehouse. When he arrived, she cut his cord and roughed him up a little bit to make him convincing. There was nothing they could do about the nose, but luckily I was a trusting child. Still, she hadn't the heart to throw the original out, and so the two BLLs both slept with me from then on out.

I'm pleased to say that I have all of my security friends to this day: Piggy, Cookie Monster, Baby, both Blankies, and both BLLs-- as well as a couple newcomers, like Pink Floyd the google-eyed flamingo and the irresistibly squeezable Yukata Bunny, though they are currently in storage. (I also have a totally separate menagerie of friends here in Japan: Funky Monkey from Jana, Kuma and Johnny Snow from Robert, Bartholomew the owl and a plush bunny pillow from Tiffany, Lila the hot pad giraffe from Lisa, and Nagochan Churaumi Shaquilla the adorable pineapple in addition to Yukata Bunny from home, who comes with me on all Japan-related adventures). I don't need to sleep with special friends anymore (and indeed all the ones I have in Japan don't fit in my bed!) but I do retain a fondness for my stuffed animals.

I'm glad I was raised by parents who respect the bond between a child and his or her beloved stuffed animals and allowed me to make the call about when I was ready to go without them, even if they did impose practical and acceptable limits on when and where they could accompany me. I think it's horrifying when parents take away or dispose of a child's security friends, especially before they are ready to give them up. To throw them out shows a complete lack of sentimentality and to do so too early strikes me as abusive, considering the emotional reaction it usually prompts from the child. I don't know what a parent is thinking they are accomplishing by doing such a thing. I've never known anyone to grow up impaired because they retain a sentimental affection for their old stuffed animals.

Writer's Block: Toys in the attic

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I actually had quite a few "security friends" growing up. Piggy, a stuffed pig made of soft pink flannel I received at birth, and my white blanket Blanky were my Bedtime Friends I needed each night to go to sleep, but my mom forbade me from removing them from my room to prevent Missing Bedtime Friend Trauma. (A wise choice, as I have spent many a stressful babysitting session scouring the house for missing Bedtime Friends-- and my cousin went through the horror of leaving his in a hotel and losing him for good!). I had a Cookie Monster doll and a separate but similar Blanky as my Bedtime Friends at the lake. I also had a Storm Friend in the form of a plush Piglet doll, who usually hung out in a basket with my other daytime toys and only came to visit my bed on stormy evenings so he could sing a song from the show Welcome to Pooh Corner about overcoming one's fears which would make me feel braver.

However, my Traveling Friends (those I kept with me at all times, or as much as Mom would let me) were first Baby, and then Bunny-Long-Legs-- and then Bunny-Long-Legs II. Baby was a baby doll with a soft body that squeaked and a plastic head; she was actually very old and had belonged to my mom when she was a girl, and maybe that has something to do with why her head tasted so interesting. (I used to suck on her head a lot and I remember the flavor vividly, lol). I carried Baby when I was very small, before I could fully talk-- which is really early since my mom swears I had a high schooler's vocabulary by age one. (And before that I apparently spoke Japanese*). My dad still likes to quote how I would ask him to play one of my favorite games, watching him build a house of cardboard blocks for Baby: "Baby 'OUSE? Baby 'OUSE?"

*According to my mom, I used to speak in sentence-like structures that sounded Japanese. She was often so surprised at how deliberate and language-like I sounded that without thinking she'd often ask, "What?" and I'd repeat the same thing again the exact same way. Then apparently one night we all went out to eat and I spoke in front of an Asian waitress-- and she looked at my parents, perplexed, and asked, "She speaks Japanese?" Probably she didn't speak Japanese herself and, like my mom, just thought it sounded similar, but I really wish my parents had some video of me talking because now that I speak Japanese-- again?-- I'd love to verify. It certainly would bolster my theory of having been Japanese in another life!

However, while I still cared for Baby, Bunny-Long-Legs soon replaced her as my main traveling security friend. I received Bunny-Long-Legs the Easter I was two. My parents have a framed photograph of me holding him for the first time, sitting on the Easter Bunny's Lap at Easter brunch. As befitting his name, he is a bunny of short brown and white blush with long legs, wearing green cotton overalls with pink fabric buttons. He has a looped red cord coming out of his head (to hang him up?), but my parents cut it so I wouldn't tangle my fingers in it.

However, I didn't take Bunny-Long-Legs everywhere. He came with me all over the house, into the yard, and to some public places, but, ever terrified of Bunny-Long-Legs encountering some terrible accident-- and wanting to encourage pro-social behavior-- I was not allowed to bring Bunny-Long-Legs with me to preschool. I left him in my carseat every morning when I went into school, and he'd be sitting right there waiting when I got back in the car again a few hours later.

Considering his wanderings, by the time I was four or five Bunny-Long-Legs was in pretty bad shape. His fur was dirty and matted, his overalls discolored, buttons shriveled, stuffing emerging from seams, and his arms hanging by threads. Mom was starting to worry he might be carrying diseases. So one night when my grandmother was in town, my mom told me that Grama was going to "do some surgery" on BLL, to clean him up a little. She showed me the green cotton fabric she was going to use for his overalls and everything.

The next morning I woke up to find BLL sitting on my placemat, looking good as new. His overalls were fresh and clean and his seams airtight, though his fur was still a little matted and the red string was still cut. The only thing that seemed a little strange was that his nose was now pink and smooth instead of orange and rough, and recessed further into his face-- but I figured they had just worn it down by scrubbing at it. Life went on as usual, and it wasn't long until BLL looked just as dirty as he had before.

By elementary school I stopped carrying him around with me everywhere, and he joined Piggy and Blanky as a bedtime friend. Then one night when I was about nine, my mom came into my room with a crumpled brown bag and told me, "Amy, I have kept a terrible secret from you."

Bunny-Long-Legs (II) was right there next to me on the bed when she opened the bag to reveal (the original) Bunny-Long-Legs!

Apparently she had thought about trying to repair him herself (hence the presence of the green fabric), but ultimately decided to call the company that had made Bunny-Long-Legs in the first place. They had one bunny left in their warehouse. When he arrived, she cut his cord and roughed him up a little bit to make him convincing. There was nothing they could do about the nose, but luckily I was a trusting child. Still, she hadn't the heart to throw the original out, and so the two BLLs both slept with me from then on out.

I'm pleased to say that I have all of my security friends to this day: Piggy, Cookie Monster, Baby, both Blankies, and both BLLs-- as well as a couple newcomers, like Pink Floyd the google-eyed flamingo and the irresistibly squeezable Yukata Bunny, though they are currently in storage. (I also have a totally separate menagerie of friends here in Japan: Funky Monkey from Jana, Kuma and Johnny Snow from Robert, Bartholomew the owl and a plush bunny pillow from Tiffany, Lila the hot pad giraffe from Lisa, and Nagochan Churaumi Shaquilla the adorable pineapple in addition to Yukata Bunny from home, who comes with me on all Japan-related adventures). I don't need to sleep with special friends anymore (and indeed all the ones I have in Japan don't fit in my bed!) but I do retain a fondness for my stuffed animals.

I'm glad I was raised by parents who respect the bond between a child and his or her beloved stuffed animals and allowed me to make the call about when I was ready to go without them, even if they did impose practical and acceptable limits on when and where they could accompany me. I think it's horrifying when parents take away or dispose of a child's security friends, especially before they are ready to give them up. To throw them out shows a complete lack of sentimentality and to do so too early strikes me as abusive, considering the emotional reaction it usually prompts from the child. I don't know what a parent is thinking they are accomplishing by doing such a thing. I've never known anyone to grow up impaired because they retain a sentimental affection for their old stuffed animals.