This is Bunny. Believe it or not, he just had a bath two days ago. And while you might wonder why I am posting about our dog's chew toy, you may reconsider when I tell you that Bunny is Master X's very best friend. Plucked from obscurity among a shelf full of plush rabbits, Bunny was gifted to us by Master X's Auntie Courts just last Easter. He came to us plump and newborn, with silky fur, cotton candy pink velvet ears and a fluffy white tail, brimming with cuteness. A mere year later, he resembles Rizzo the Rat of Muppets fame more than he does his own species. He has endured two surgeries, one to remove the pellets from his limbs lest his thinning fur disintegrate, and the other to give him a new set of (black thread) eyes after his shiny plastic ones were bitten out during a month of heavy teething.
And no matter what I do, he smells. Like an old sock. Master X doesn't seem to notice, though. If anything, Master X's love for the malodorous creature has increased with every sign of wear and tear. If he could hold Bunny every minute of every day (in his mouth when his hands are full), believe me, he would. I don't mind that my son has a lovey. In fact, I find it quite adorable, and it makes me happy that he's found a means of comfort that never lets him down. As a 33 year-old who still sleeps with a security blanket, I don't see anything wrong with the relationship at all.
On the other hand, as the mother, I worry about Bunny. The past year has been rough on the little guy and I wonder how long he can withstand the rigorous demands of my highchair tyrant. In addition to being the chief comforter and sleep time companion, his role as best friend involves a tremendous amount of hopping, singing, and testing Master X's milk, not to mention travel by land and by air, where he is usually tethered on an ingenious little leash called the "Secure-A-Toy" by Baby Buddy. In November, he braved two sleepless nights at Master X's side in the hospital without so much as a complaint about the food. Yes, Bunny has been a champ, working tirelessly twenty-four hours a day, since Master X has shunned the four replacements (Mister A calls them "under-bunnies") we have tried to integrate, and I love him dearly despite the fact that he reeks to high heaven if you get too close. (Much like Mama J mentioned, there is really only one true "true love" when it comes to stuffed animals.)
It was with this love in mind that we recently instituted a challenging new family rule: Bunny stays in the crib. I did it for a number of reasons, the primary one being my desire to preserve Bunny's life. The second reason is because I am deathly afraid of losing Bunny somewhere in the house, or worse, out in the great unknown where he won't be able to hop back to us.
The final reason gives you a clue to the workings of my mind. I need Bunny to have the time to "dry out" a bit. (No, he's not a heavy drinker.) He's soggy, and part of me fears that he might be getting mildew, or worse, growing toxic bacteria. I wash him and dry him frequently, but that only goes so far when he is carried around in the mouth of an energetic toddler. Has anyone ever heard of a real life case of TBS, or Toxic Bunny Syndrome? Mister A thinks I'm certifiable. Do you?
Anyway, we're still testing this rule out. Needless to say, Master X doesn't like it, and he cries hot, salty tears whenever we put Bunny to bed. It doesn't make any sense to him why his trusty companion needs a "night night" when he wants to play. It's tremendously sad to watch, but I can't conceive of a better alternative. I use distraction as my major tool and have succumbed to offering him my iPhone, or the forbidden remote control, as a bribe. I'm not sure this is the best idea, either. Then again, he can't really suck on them or feed them soggy Cheerios until they are coated in crumbs or drop them on the street as we take a walk. Well, technically, I guess he can. But if that does ever happen, they will be much more easily replaced.
No comments:
Post a Comment