I remember when M was just about a year old, maybe even a bit after that, she started to become attached to one or two of her “loveys”. Initially, it was “Blue Kitty” and “Pink Bunny”. Blue Kitty is a stuffed knit striped, light blue cat, and Pink Bunny is one of those fleecy head on a handkerchief kinds of thing that is geared toward babies. The connection between M and her loveys was certainly gradual and later than some of her peers. OK, maybe even a bit forced on my part as I tried to get her to have something to cling to as I left her behind at daycare crying.
But eventually, she consistently sought them out, took them to daycare and slept with them at night, particularly more so after M started the night off in her own bed rather than ours. By some stroke of luck, we only managed to leave the loveys at school overnight one time. When you leave a lovey behind and cannot get to it until the next day, you quickly learn not to do it again!
Then, for the past year or so, up until around when M turned five, she “adopted” a few more animals from within her menagerie. They had always been around since she was crawling, but were not really ones she took a shine to. Then, almost as if for no apparent reason, she decided that “Jello” (which is the name she gave a Nut Brown Hare bunny she owned since she was an infant) was in, and Blue Kitty was out. Pink Bunny always seemed to hold top
dogbunny status, and was the first thing she asked for when the tears began.
I never worried about whether she’d end up like Kenny in Mr. Mom with his Woobie. I figured that she’d end the attachment when the time was right, or never at all (I remember some college friends bringing their “woobies” to the dorm life!). It just always made me happy that she could at least feel somewhat secure with those stuffed blobs of love when we were apart or my hugs were not enough.
But it dawned on me the other day that they’re no longer the ones she turns to. Not in bed with her. Not what she brings to preschool. Not even what she asks for when something’s got her distressed.
When did that happen? And, more importantly, why? This I wonder about. Yes, at the age of five, emotions tend to be a little more manageable (for both of us!), if not even-keeled, so the actual need for loveys has probably diminished somewhat. I haven’t really paid attention to the lovey status of her peers, so is it something that is age-appropriate? Is she afraid of feeling like a “baby”? Part of me secretly wishes, no.
What I don’t wonder about, however, is what has taken the place of these fleecy remnants of her babyhood. That answer is easy: Lily.
Lily is a gift from M’s gramma after a 5th birthday outing to the American Girl Doll store for lunch. That means she’s only been in our lives for about 3 months now, but there are times where I feel like she’s been here forever. This is because M treats her, talks to her and talks about her like an idealistic sibling. She’s not soft and cuddly by any stretch, but there is something about Lily that has M smitten.
Incidentally, when you only have one child and that’s all you’re going to have, you tend to second guess yourself about whether the behavior your child is exhibiting is directly related to her one-ness. Is she obsessed with Lily because she’s lonely? Are we terrible for not “giving” her a sibling? Would she be this attached to a human-like plaything if she had a brother or sister around? It’s a hard habit to break, but I’m starting to let go of this unproductive thought process more and more.
But Lily really is almost like having a second child around the house. We have to remember to get her dressed in the mornings. And at night. Oh, the wrath I heard one morning when M discovered that I had forgotten to put Lily in PJ’s before bed! I think it was my lapse that motivated M to finally learn how to get Lily dressed completely all by herself. We take Lily everywhere. Much to my surprise, M’s teacher doesn’t even mind Lily coming to school, though she must stay on the shelf except during rest time (apparently there is a whole trend now with other girls bringing their version of “Lily” too…and all of them look as
bedraggledwell-loved as Lily). Lily is sometimes dealt a hand in a game of Go Fish or gets a pawn in Candyland. M and Lily can spend up to two hours just playing on their own. Lily even has complicated thoughts and opinions, as told to us by M. She has given M confidence in some social situations that I think she otherwise might have turned inward and gone quiet.
It’s this particular point of M not needing the soft cuddly things or me as much either that has me feeling both happy that she’s becoming independent, yet slightly bittersweet that the apron strings have loosened a bit more. Sure she still seeks me out for affection and household companionship, but she really does look to Lily for more of these things it seems. Wisps of yarn and fleece are no longer the answer. Isn’t this what I always wanted? More time to myself? Not having to address M’s needs on an endless basis? Before Lily came along, I surely thought so. Now, it seems, I am having mixed emotions about it because of what this transition to another kind of inanimate object represents about her growing up. All normal feelings, I’m sure.
So, as I wonder about where to put Blue Kitty, Jello and Pink Bunny for safekeeping, my thoughts wander about who or what will eventually replace Lily, and when. School friends, I’m sure. That’s less than a year away. I think that will be a harder pill to swallow, when another sweet child becomes her companion and confidant, rather than Lily or me.
Copyright (c) 2012 Kristen M. Ploetz
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