Goodbye, old friend.
I forgot to mention in my previous post: Katie has taken a fondness to something near and dear to me.
When I was born, my grandfather gave me a stuffed teddy bear which I eventually named Max. If you can see the journal icon I selected for this entry, that's Max waving in it. I've had Max all my life. Once, my mother sewed a little denim jacket for him to wear, that later got lost. It looked really nice. Another time, she restuffed him, as the years of love I had given him had left him raggedy and limp. He now has a soft, little pudgy tummy. Many years back, my brother and I got our hands on some glow-in-the-dark paint meant for clothes. Now, Max has little glow-in-the-dark paws. He's even been immortalized in a comic book I drew back in high school.
The past several years, Max had been hanging out with a bunch of other stuffed animals I've kept and collected over the years. Melissa found him while unpacking some things, and left him on the bed for me. I laid him on my pillow, and that night, when Katie was snuggled and nursed to sleep for bed, she found Max and hugged him tightly to her. When I laid her down in her crib, I saw Max in her arms, and tried to remove him, but she gripped him all the more tightly, so I let her sleep with him. Since then, there hasn't been a night she's gone to bed (or nap) that she hasn't taken Max with her. If she leaves him in her crib, she grabs him once I lay her down in it. If she can, though, she brings him with her for nursies in the big bed.
I used to say that Max was going to be buried (or rather, cremated) with me when I die, but when I see Katie hugging him so tightly, and I think about the years of love and playtime I had with him, I think that if my grandfather were still alive, he'd have said "Pass him on to another who will love him as you did." Melissa points out that for all the stuffed animals that Katie has been given by relatives, it was the little raggedy, brown bear with the scratched-up eyeballs, the poochy tummy and the glow-in-the-dark paws that she has latched onto. I talked it over with Max, and he was agreeable to going with Katie. I told Katie she could have him as long as she treats him with love and kindness. She also better not try to change his name, because he'll get confused if she starts calling him anything other than Max.
When I was born, my grandfather gave me a stuffed teddy bear which I eventually named Max. If you can see the journal icon I selected for this entry, that's Max waving in it. I've had Max all my life. Once, my mother sewed a little denim jacket for him to wear, that later got lost. It looked really nice. Another time, she restuffed him, as the years of love I had given him had left him raggedy and limp. He now has a soft, little pudgy tummy. Many years back, my brother and I got our hands on some glow-in-the-dark paint meant for clothes. Now, Max has little glow-in-the-dark paws. He's even been immortalized in a comic book I drew back in high school.
The past several years, Max had been hanging out with a bunch of other stuffed animals I've kept and collected over the years. Melissa found him while unpacking some things, and left him on the bed for me. I laid him on my pillow, and that night, when Katie was snuggled and nursed to sleep for bed, she found Max and hugged him tightly to her. When I laid her down in her crib, I saw Max in her arms, and tried to remove him, but she gripped him all the more tightly, so I let her sleep with him. Since then, there hasn't been a night she's gone to bed (or nap) that she hasn't taken Max with her. If she leaves him in her crib, she grabs him once I lay her down in it. If she can, though, she brings him with her for nursies in the big bed.
I used to say that Max was going to be buried (or rather, cremated) with me when I die, but when I see Katie hugging him so tightly, and I think about the years of love and playtime I had with him, I think that if my grandfather were still alive, he'd have said "Pass him on to another who will love him as you did." Melissa points out that for all the stuffed animals that Katie has been given by relatives, it was the little raggedy, brown bear with the scratched-up eyeballs, the poochy tummy and the glow-in-the-dark paws that she has latched onto. I talked it over with Max, and he was agreeable to going with Katie. I told Katie she could have him as long as she treats him with love and kindness. She also better not try to change his name, because he'll get confused if she starts calling him anything other than Max.