My son is away at sixth grade camp. It’s a shock after having the kids at home for two weeks – now my littlest chick isn’t here.
When we were getting his things ready he informed me the boys get a reward if one of them brings a pink stuffed animal with him.
“Do you want to do that?” I asked him.
“No way.” He held his hands up, palms out, to emphasize the point.
“But what if it’s something cool, like a dinosaur or something?”
“Yeah, Mom, like Barney. That’d be really cool.”
“Not like Barney,” I argued. “Not even as a joke…?”
His eyes registered danger on the dorky mom meter. I decided not to press the issue.
I remember the days when he thought pink was just fine, and couldn’t go anywhere without his stuffed puppy. He’d had it since he was two months old. He was so attached to it I tried to find a duplicate. I’d probably have been willing to pay a lot for it. I was afraid he’d lose it; then we’d all be paying dearly for it.
But the toy was discontinued. I sewed a decoy, copying it as best I could. I didn’t notice 'til I snapped a picture of them side by side that Puppy Two looked like the original puppy on steroids. When one puppy got filthy, I brought out the double and the other went into the wash.
At first sight the freshly laundered puppy passed with flying colors, but as soon as my son got hold of it he’d howl in protest. His objection – the ears (his favorite part to chew) weren’t stiff enough with drool. He wasted no time fixing the problem.
It’s been years since any stuffed animals have come out to play, although we do have a tradition of sneaking stowaways into suitcases of traveling family members. In this case, I’d been warned - it had better not be stuffed. And under no circumstances would it be pink.
