I only have two children, but sometimes it feels like I have three. Wherever my girls go, so does one little special teddy bear.
Mine.
No, he’s not my teddy bear. His name is “Mine”. That’s the name my 3-year-old daughter gave to him awhile ago. He’s a little tan teddy that she takes everywhere. And I mean everywhere.
He rides in the car on the way to school.
He goes shopping.
He goes out to eat, especially at Texas Roadhouse.
He goes to church. He hasn’t been baptized, but he considers himself a Catholic, in case you were wondering.
He goes on the slide and the swing. He’s not very good at the see-saw.
He goes to the beach, but doesn’t wear sunscreen.
He goes to bed (that’s a given).
He even goes on vacation. He’s already seen quite a few road trips and has already been on his first flight.
He’s been left at Wal-Mart on one of those ride-on toys, only to be discovered missing once we got in the car and my daughter freaked out. You would have thought she lost me. Thankfully we didn’t have to call the police. No one snatched him. Truly, I don’t think anyone would want him, except for my daughter.
He’s been around. One look at him, and you can tell instantly.
My daughter’s favorite teddy, A.K.A. “Mine”
He’s a little tainted in color. He’s not as soft and stuffed as he was in his younger years. The little teddy bear attached to him has been gnawed almost to the point of no return. Grandma has performed “surgery” on him more times than I can count. She says he’s now beyond repair. But, my daughter doesn’t mind.
“Mine” is like the little brother my daughters don’t have. Most days I don’t mind, except for when we forget him at home and I have to turn around to pick him up if I want any peace and quiet.
When will it end?
Funny you should ask because my daughter has actually been asking me the same thing.
“Mommy, when I’m five do I have to give up “Mine”?”
“No”, I said.
“How about when I’m ten?”
Pause.
“Not if you don’t want to, ” I answered.
“What about when I’m 18?” “18 people don’t have a teddy.”
18 people? I laughed then answered, “Well, you don’t have to get rid of him, but you may not want to carry him around everywhere. That may be a bit weird.”
Silence.
After that answer she walked away and hasn’t asked me since. So, I don’t know if she was satisfied with what I said or if she just had enough of the conversation.
I’ll be curious to see how long “Mine” hangs around or quite frankly, how long he can survive without disintegrating.
