Lovey Me Tender

At my baby shower I received a small stuffed animal, a blue dog with a satin belly and a collar reading"My First Puppy."  I thought it was darling, but I did not even begin to dream of the love affair that would soon blossom between a baby boy and his...inanimate object!

I wasn't surprised when, at several months old, Oscar began to favor the blue puppy.  The puppy is soft, cuddly, and just the right size for a small hand to grasp, just the right floppiness to fold into a small neck, and, apparently, just the right texture for a miniature set of gnashers to bite and chew, and just the right absorbency to wipe a small nose.  And it's machine-washable (well, maybe that didn't factor into his choice).  It quickly began to get the worn look--and worse, the goobery smell--of a cherished, rarely-left-behind comfort object.  Was this attachment normal?  That kid with the blanket from the Peanuts cartoon never seemed quite right to me.  I consulted my book.  Whew--normal.  What's this though?  The book suggests a spare might be in order.  Uh oh. An internet search confirmed the worst:  the dog was discontinued.  Of course, there were several eBay profiteers ready to sell me a used one for forty bucks.  Who are these people?!  The best deal I could find was a new one for $25.  Still no sale.  I was sure I could find a cheaper solution.  If a second puppy was out of the question, we would just have to convince the boy to shift his affections to an object that could be purchased in multiples.

For the next few months I looked high and low--ToysRUs, Target, Walmart--searching, searching, searching for the perfect lovey.  Every time I saw a likely candidate I purchased two, smugly noting to myself that two of these were less than $25.  And every time I presented Oscar with a new friend, he was delighted.  He would smile, exclaim, and squeeze the plush item in a very promising manner.  Yep, this is The One, I would think.  But these flirtations were momentary.  At bedtime or after a knock on the noggin, it was his first, true love that he sought.  Even with the handwriting on the wall, I held out for several weeks, willing my scheme to succeed.  During which time the price of the new puppy went up to $30--a sum I had already easily exceeded with my doomed machinations, naturally.  When I was finally ready to admit defeat, I couldn't order that second puppy fast enough, and I thanked the seller for gouging me.  My only regret is that we didn't get a third.