Ode to Bear

Dear Bear,
Thank you for always being there for Belly, for enjoying the hugs and stroking and rhythmic face-sucking as much as you seem to.
Thank you for being her pet, her pillow, her best friend, her constant companion, every day, every night, and in every situation (except meals and baths).
Thank you for appreciating the fact that meals and baths are too messy and/or wet for you, and for your patience as we sit you in your special place, wave bye-bye, and go about our business at these times. At least you know that after every single meal and bath, you will be greeted like you've just returned from a year-long sea voyage in pirate-infested waters.

Thank you for being made by Gund, and mass-produced. The few months when we thought your position had been filled by an obscure lamb who a) was a gift from an unknown source, b) had her tag brazenly cut off before mommy knew what she was doing, and c) was declining quickly, were tough ones. We purchased lamb after lamb as back-up, and nothing was ever an exact match. A girl only needs so many lambs. But then you muscled in--plump, soft, just the right size--and claimed the position as your own. It was no contest, and she has never looked back. Your doppelganger, and his doppelganger, have now been obtained.

Thank you, dear Bear, for being machine washable. The face-sucking, you may have noticed, can often result in that not-so-fresh feeling.
Thank you also for tolerating the endless baby-wipes on your face, as you are dropped time and time again onto the canine fecal bacteria gardens that are NYC sidewalks. And thank you for never mentioning the time that you were dropped, face first, into a gooey glob of human spit--for intuiting that regardless of the fact that you went immediately into the laundry, it was something I really never wanted to think about again.
Thank you, seriously, for not mentioning the fact that I occasionally (always) give you (or your doppelganger) a loving little pat on the head during the laundry process. It's embarrassing--I mean, I know you are stuffed--but I spend so much damn time with you, and perhaps have read Corduroy one too many times for my own good.

Thank you for always being there, even when you end up in the basket of the stroller, in the trunk of the car, or on the floor outside her crib. You know that soon you'll be summoned back into her arms. You know that there is a very specific cry that her dad and I recognize instantly on the monitor, and that means only one thing: "Regretfully, Bear has been thrown out of the crib in a fit of pique and must be returned to his rightful position immediately."

Thank you for the constant companionship you give her. I hear the way she talks to you, tells you about her feelings and her day. I watch her wave hello to you right up close to your face, even as you sit in her arms. I see how tightly she snuggles you in her sleep, all night long, when all other animals have been discarded and long forgotten. And I promise, I struggle desperately to keep you out of the danger zone when I change her diapers.
Thank you for being her cozy comfort when she's tired, her smile when she's blue, and her sigh of relief when she feels like no one else really "gets" her.

Thank you, finally, for being one of our first teachers, for showing us that no matter how much we may want to be everything to her, we can't be, and that is a good thing. Love like the kind you two share could never be wrong.

Love,
Belly's mom and dad