I love Lucy

Our children all have blankies, and those blankies are of our choosing.  We chose small, mass produced items, then gave them to our kids as newborns every time they nursed.  Before they were even six months old, our kids had attached firmly to these items.  Zachary has Taggie and Benjamin has Giraffie.  When I was pregnant with Lilah, Zachary decided he wanted to spend his allowance on a blankie for our new baby, and so Bunny entered our family.

Our children’s relationships with their blankies prove once and for all that arranged marriages can be highly successful.

Since we chose these blankies, we were able to ensure we have multiples.  We carefully rotate those little lovies so that all copies are equally worn in.

Once, we had three Taggies, but Zachary left one in a Denny’s somewhere between Sequoia National Park and Los Angeles.   Needless to say, we smartened up with the later children; we have four Giraffies and four Bunnies.

We have, on our bookshelf, a picture frame with three photos, one of each child around nine or so months old, sitting on the floor with a blankie in the mouth.  Actually, Lilah’s blankie is next to her mouth and she is sucking her thumb.  That’s just the nature of their relationship.

Unfortunately, we all know what happens to the best laid schemes of mice and men.  Just when we thought we had figured this lovey thing all out, in strode Lucy, a furry, legless, dog-ish puppet.  This brazen strumpet has caught Benjamin’s eye and stolen his heart.

To be fair, this is not really a love affair.  Lucy is actually one of Benjamin’s myriad babies, and she is clearly his favorite child.  This makes her technically my grand-puppet, so perhaps I ought not be calling her a strumpet.

For the last fortnight or so, Lucy has been front and center in Benjamin’s imaginative play.  She accompanies him everywhere, he prepares special meals for her, and he worries about her food allergies.  Once, he took her with him under his shirt into the powder room as he went to tinkle.  From the kitchen I heard him crooning, “Oh, Lucy, you were borned.  You really, really were borned!”  Apparently, he had gone into labor in the half bathroom.

On Friday, I convinced him to leave Lucy home from school.  I was afraid the preschool would start charging us another tuition if she participated in one more day of activities.

So, right, you know where this story is going, don’t you?  You know about the bedtime searches with him calling “Lucy!  Lucy, where are you?” as I frantically pull up sofa cushions and my husband rips open pillowcases.  You know about the cries of victory when Lucy appears and the soft comforting noises he makes to her as he cuddles her up to bed.

And you know about tonight, when no one could find her.

Somewhere – out there – Lucy is waiting, waiting for her daddy, who went to bed heartbroken without his favorite baby.  After he went to bed, I turned the house upside down, but there was no Lucy to be found.  So, I ask you, send a bit of your positive energy toward that little legless puppet tonight, so that tomorrow my boy will have his baby back.

Either that, or send me another Lucy.

21 responses to “I love Lucy

  1. I remember when we had to get the weekend custodian to open the preschool so that we could look in, around and behind Matt’s cubby for a very worn, dirty Snoopy. We found him as you will find Lucy but it had been a long, long sleepless night for all of us. Good luck!

  2. Oh I so understand this! Holden, of course, became attached to the bright red blanket someone had given us that was discontinued. I haunted Ebay for months until I found a replacement. eBay also came through when Hollis’s beloved stuffed cheetah was partially devoured by Buddy the Puppy.
    Definitely sending you lots of positive to Lucy & Benjamin.

  3. I am sending very good thoughts your way. May you locate Lucy, and quickly!

  4. Oh, I hope you find Lucy!!

  5. Lucy’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.

    Hope you find her soon!

  6. My thoughts are with you. I hope you find her soon. Miracles do happen. I cut Bear Blanket in half when we lost its mate, Balloon Blanket. Then one half disappeared. I cut the remaining half in half. Last week, I was knocking on the door after hours at Frye’s trying to track down a 1/4-size piece of worn-thin flannel. I told the man at the door, “It’s an emergency. My son lost his baby blanket” (leaving out my son is now 5). I retraced my husband’s steps and nearly assailed a guy near the model trains). He had seen it…and eventually found it in a back room! New rule: Both halves stay home. I can now only imagine what would happen if we lost Pink Bear….

  7. Pingback: losing a child’s lovey is an emergency » Baking with Carter

  8. OH, NO. My daughter doesn’t have a lovie, and really never did, but my son (two years her junior) does. He’s a giraffe named Georgie, and I know those moments you’re talking about – ripping the couch apart, frantically scanning the house for a sight of him. It’s a total ‘heart in your throat’ moment, I know. I hope you find Lucy soon.

  9. My son (16) has a bear named Milk. He named it that when my grandfather gave it to him when he was just under two years old.

    He lost it once. And it stayed lost for about a week.

    Worst week of my life. His too, I suppose.

    But Milk showed up. Under something-or-other. And he still has Milk.

    Lucy . . . LUCY! Oh, Lucy . . .

  10. Ach. I once had to unpack a moving truck to find Ryan’s “bee” he is 24 now but “substitute bee” (christened when he was seven and bee really was no more) is still in his closet.

  11. Child 3 had Mr Tiger and, as we were heading out of town for a road trip, Mr Tiger went missing after we went into a Target for road snacks. Fortunately we were heading back to the town I had bought Mr Tiger and, with a bit of luck, I found another one. The new Mr Tiger was produced from the back of the car (“oh THERE he is!”) and greeted with, “Goodness Mr Tiger, you’re so CLEAN!” The best bit though was when we got home and there was a shriek of joy from the bedroom: “Mum! There are TWO Mr Tigers!” Fortunately Child 3 never questioned how this magic happened and from then on we had Mr Tiger and Sister Mr Tiger.

    Good luck with Lucy, I hope the reunion takes place soon!

    Now that I think of it, I remember reading once that J.R.R. Tolkein’s son lost a beloved toy at the ocean and to comfort him Tolkein wrote a lovely series of stories about Roverandom’s adventures under the sea and on the moon. This bit of childhood trauma is the cost of the love I suppose.

  12. oh dear. much hope for Lucy’s safe return.

  13. Oh, goodness, I hope she is found soon.

    I have, er, had, er, have a “Tickle” and a “Jingle Moose.” I will not say whether or not Jingle is going to come with me on my honeymoon.

  14. That is such a sweet side of Benjamin. I hope you find Lucy soon.

  15. Oh, dear. I hope Lucy turns up soon, if she hasn’t already.

    We left Ted the Bear (what can I say – we are not original namers in this family) at The Mad Greek restaurant on our way to Disneyland. Thank God an employee located Ted and kept him safe until our return. However, even with all the magic Disney had to offer in the way of distractions, I still had to endure the hearbroken sobs of Badger every night when he wanted Teddy.

    Teddy is now checked in at every stop like a passenger on Con Air.

  16. That Lucy, she really is a strumpet. She’ll be home when she’s ready, I bet. We once found my son’s mouse under the couch, covered in dog hair, missing his eyebrows. But, oh, the reunion was glorious.

  17. I hope Lucy is found soon!

  18. Oh no. I’ve been there. Good luck.

  19. Pingback: St. Anthony « Wheels on the bus

  20. Oh, I knew a bunny like that. I’ve participated in many frantic bedtime searches. I hope she’s found soon!