This is how I found my daughter sleeping this morning:
That grimey thing smothering her is her lamby. Lamby is THE.BOMB. to this girl. It started out as only being in her room. We have too little space to have her crap all over the house. Clearly that rule has been adhered to:
Lamby slowly started making it’s way downstairs. Then our rule was lamby had to stay in the house. Lamby, apparently, is an outdoor lamb.
Then the rule was lamby had to stay at home. Well:
We are very good at sticking to rules, you know, creating boundaries and setting limits.
Now Lamby is like 3M’s 3rd arm. When she’s upset, she cries for Lamby. When she is tired, she cuddles with Lamby. When she has the goop eye, Lamby helps give her eye medicine. Seriously:
When she has something on her face, like chocolate or ketchup, she uses Lamby as a napkin.
I knew, ew. She would wipe her butt with Lamby if we let her. And who knows, when she gets all “I need my privacy!” in the bathroom she just might. Judging from the smell of Lamby, it is not beyond the realm of possibility.
Lamby is probably a combination of the grocery cart handle, public bathroom stall door knob, and toys at the doctor’s office in terms of germ collection. The veritable Chuck E Cheese of stuffed animals. And yet 3M is NEVER sick. Perhaps I need to sleep with Lamby over my mouth and nose, take a deep breath and get immunized.
Or get Ebola.
What used to be a white, plush, music box playing lamb is now a dingy gray, flat, broken music box head that rattles when you shake it. And it could not be more loved. As covered in snot as it is, that Lamby is, in 3M’s eyes, the whitest, plushest lovey in all creation. Oh, I dread the day when 3M’s worries, fears, troubles and hurts can’t be magically soothed with just a cuddle of her lamby. So until then, I will cherish this:
What kind of lovey did/does your kiddo have?
Have a great crazy day!