Lucy's first love was named Myrna and she had soft brown hair, kind eyes and an ever-present smile -- she was also machine washable and available with 1-day shipping because if Lucy was gonna drag some doll behind her all day, I was going to make sure we had an extra and a back-up and a back-up for that. Two years later, Arlo found his favorite ragdoll, Bree, and we ran the program again -- cheap, washable and under $20.
When Arlo lost his last of three Brees at Target, Danny raced back to find her. While scouring the aisles, an employee offered to let him review the security footage and my fairly-reserved husband who would never request such an effort, gladly accepted the offer. "Happens all the time" the security guard assured him. They found Bree and she was home by bedtime. Crisis averted.
Lucy never lost her last of the four Myrnas, it just got greyer and more matted and I occasionally find it shoved under the couch or in the back of her pajama drawer. This doll which had offered so much comfort, who was Lucy’s first Halloween costume inspiration and who accompanied us on roadtrips and plane rides has been cast aside. Outgrown.
Blankie, teddy, comfort item, lovey, woobie, Myrna, Bree -- once your kid finds theirs, it’s hard not to count them as another member of the family. We depend on them for naptime success and backseat entertainment; they go to school daily, they get laundered often, they are on first name basis with grandparents and grocery store cashiers. Keeping a spare (or three) can prevent our kids’ meltdowns but -- stick with me on this one -- we’re not doing it just for them.
Whether we acknowledge it or not, there is something inherently powerful about being able to control (and repurchase and replace) that which is most important to our child. We can buy more and keep them on standby. We can prevent “crisis” and offer comfort. We wield such power, but what we can't do is prevent our kids from growing up and growing older and growing out of needing these basic comfort items.
When I find Myrna cast aside and feel that pang, I’m grieving the loss of the kid who dragged that doll everywhere, the kid who came with an easy answer -- upset? find Myrna, that'll make it better -- for a short window that felt like an eternity.
Of course I knew Myrna wouldn’t be the fifth member of the family and Lucy is arguably 100x more fun to be around now that she’s four and three quarters, but the doll represents the toddler who is gone. Gone and never coming back. I can grieve that loss.
WATCH:
Toy Story 3 (Pixar, 2010)
Fifteen years after we first meet Woody, Buzz and the gang we watch as Andy prepares for college and casually bags up Mr. Potato Head, Rex, Hamm, Bullseye, Slinky Dog, Jessie and the hard-won aliens from Pizza Planet. Absolute hearbreak, man.
READ:
Something from Nothing by Phoebe Gilman
A beautiful story about a favorite blanket that changes shape over time to meet the needs of the boy who loves it. I’m excited to share this recommendation in part because it came from my mom. Sorta. After my mom’s death, a friend of my mom’s sent it to me with a note “your mom bought this for my grandkids and they love it; I’d like to buy it for your kids on her behalf.” Something from nothing.
ACTIVITY:
Tell your kids about what they were like as babies or very young kids. Share pictures — not the fancy ones, the b-roll candid shots — order prints for a few cents each and give your kid a stack of pictures.
What do you miss about those days? What did you love to do with them? This doesn’t have to be a downer of a conversation, it can be a fun way to share memories you have about your kids with your kids, and a way to help them build their own mythology.
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