Monday, 26 May 2014

Bearsy and other beloved creatures

Oh Bearsy, you are so awesome.
Oh Bearsy.

You are an old mate.  You have been around a long time.  And I love you.

You have provided enormous comfort.  Both to your owner and to me, knowing that if he has Bearsy, he's ok.

All three of my kids have had a toy they've particularly attached to.  The official term is a 'transitional object'.  The idea of which, is that if that have this object (usually a soft toy or piece of fabric), they may just possibly be less hysterical when you leave them when they are small.  We've had varying degrees of success with this in our house, sometimes hysteria was unavoidable.

Sarah has ducks.  Two of them.  The first one came in one of the gorgeous gifts we received when she was born.  At about 6 months old when she could roll over, she always rolled to the duck and grabbed it.

Her first word was Guck.

The duck in peak condition.
I quickly noticed her attachment and sourced another and carefully washed and interchanged them.  So when we lost one (and we did eventually) we had still had one which was acceptable.  I then ransacked Australia and found the last remaining duck in a bargain bin in Penrith.  He was marked down to $12.  I would have paid $400.  But I just paid postage.  So she still has two.  One is barely recognisable and the other only slightly better.  They never leave the house.  They don't even leave her bedroom.

Bearsy came about a little later in Josh's life.  Back in the days of weekly playgroup (OMG playgroup- nasty flashback of tantrums, disputes over rosters and the toy cupboard never closing) some lovely soul organised a Teddy Bears picnic.  As we reversed from the driveway that fine morning I remembered each child had to bring a bear . I threw on the handbrake, dashed into the house and picked up a duck (obviously) and this bear who had been given to us when Josh was born, sitting lonely on a shelf in the kid's bedroom.  Josh was 16 months old and had never shown interest in a particular toy.  He liked walking around clutching a Thomas or a Percy engine but that was it.

At playgroup we formed a circle (oh what fun!) and everyone sat around with their bear (duck).  I have no idea what the point of this exercise was, maybe we were going to sing songs or tell stories (hold me).

Anyway, Sarah noticed Josh had a bear and she had a duck and almost everyone else had a bear.  She attempted to remove the bear from her brother and give him the duck.  Josh went off like a packet of crackers until we gave him the bear back.  Even at 16 months that lad was NO pushover.

Bearsy in better days.
And that was that.  He started off as Guggy (Josh's first word for cuddle) and morphed into Bearsy.

At one time the question "Where's Bearsy?" was the one I dreaded most of all.  Because he was ALWAYS in stupid places (eg. on the windowsill behind the curtain, stuffed under the couch, thrown into the washing basket, wedged down the side of the car).  I tried to buy another Bearsy, he is officially a Teddy & Friends Clinton or Clancy or something...  But I never found one.  He's still here and not looking too bad considering his life experience.

So when Josh went to Bowral for the night last friday in preparation for his rugby game on Saturday (Under 9s rugby is so hard core you have to travel 2 hours just to play) he left Bearsy behind in the rush to leave.  And when I saw him discarded on the floor (his usual position), my heart sank.  But of course, Josh is 9 and a stoic, and he made not the slightest fuss when Mike told him.  Sure, he had a rapturous reunion with the old Bear the next day, but he went to sleep easily that night.

Oh Bearsy, you are loved, but not quite so necessary as you once were.  I know exactly how you feel mate.
The motley crew of transitionals.
Issy, by the way, has made her way through about 6 muslins. One was so decrepit it was renamed 'scrap of muzzy' before disintegrating.  She is currently shredding a green one which is in two pieces, soon to be three.  I would not like to leave this behind for a sleepover.  I doubt she would cope.  Seeing as her last three sleepover attempts have seen her returning to us at approximately 9pm, we still have a while to go before she is as cast iron as her brother.

Any 'transitional' objects at your house? Or should we call them most beloved friends?

Sarah's fourth birthday.  How cute are this pair? Sorry this has no relation to the post at all.