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When I was preparing for motherhood I learned so many new and fascinating things. For instance, I needed to monitor the number of times my son peed and pooped. I also had to figure out the right amount of time between diaper changes. If it is a little wet, do I change him? Or do I wait?
I nursed my son so I didn't want to give him a pacifier but in the hospital they did give him one, to calm him when they took him for weighing and bathing. Although I never saw the paci in my son's mouth, the fact that there was one in the crib proved that at the very least, the hospital staff tried to give him the pacifier. Thankfully, he never had nipple confusion and didn't use a pacifier. My boobs sufficed.
In addition to these very important aspects of the parenting experience I also was introduced to the concept of a "lovey". Until I read about a lovey on a message board, I'd never heard that phrase before but I assumed that a lovey was similar to "Linus' blanket." Remember Linus? He wouldn't go anywhere without that threadbare blanket.
I read stories of mothers purchasing multiple "loveys" in the event that one was lost. Losing a "lovey" could result in a nuclear meltdown of never before seen proportions and having a "spare" on hand would keep the peace. When reading these stories I was reminded of the Bernie Mac episode when baby girl left her doll at the beach. Screaming ensued and Bernie was forced to explore a closed beach under the light of the moon in search for the baby doll. After seeing and hearing such horror stories, I decided to watch my son closely for signs of a deep rooted attachment to inanimate objects. For the first 2 and a half years of his life he was cool. He had toys that he enjoyed but none that was a go to toy. This was pleasing to me because I can only imagine the hell he would give me if He had such an item and I was unable to locate it.
Well, this Christmas, something happened that has changed the landscape. My son "adopted" my mother's black Gund poodle during our holiday visit. He has seen that dog on numerous occasions but this time he decided that the dog belonged to him and he had to take "doggie" home. I assumed this would not be a big deal - the dog has a bit of history and actually it is fitting for it to be in my son's possession. Several years ago, when my son wasn't even a twinkle in my eye, my mother was extremely sick and hospitalized for a month. While doctors tried to determine her diagnosis (where is House when you need him?) I gave her another toy dog for comfort during times when I was unable to be with her. That dog disappeared. So, I got her the poodle and put a red ribbon "leash" on him and tied him to her bed. No more disappearing acts. My mother loved her dog.
Over Christmas, my mother was hospitalized again. My son missed her tremendously and this is when he developed the attachment for "doggie." Now, "doggie" is my son's new best friend. He must have "doggie" with him at night to sleep. When we leave the house he wants "doggie" to accompany us. I don't allow this unless we are traveling away from home overnight. I wouldn't want anything to happen to "doggie" during one of our jaunts around town - especially since "doggie" has been discontinued and I have been unable to find a duplicate in case of emergency. Yes, I have looked for one because my son really believes "doggie" is his pet. He will call for "doggie, black doggie" when he is searching for him in the house. He has placed the doggie on the potty and he talks to his "doggie" all the time.
I am watching this toy like a hawk. When my son traveled with me to a conference this past weekend as soon as we hit the road he asked for "doggie." With my infinite parenting wisdom, I'd packed the toy and let my son know he was safely traveling in the back of the car. I predict that "doggie" will remain my son's best friend and will become threadbare like Linus' blanket. I plan on continuing the search for an emergency replacement for "doggie" and in the meantime will keep close watch on
