Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Most of my children have a lovey: a treasured stuffed animal or blankie that is slept with and loved to bits and pieces. M's lovey is a stuffed dog that was given to him by his aunt when he was a toddler. It was aptly named White Puppy, though now days, it should be Gray Puppy.
He drug it around when it was bigger than he was, and it still goes with us to all important events. White Puppy is well traveled and has been camping, to the Caribbean and to Yellowstone, just to name a few.
About a month ago, White Puppy was taken to the basement to help with a fort the children were building. When I tucked M into bed that night, he informed me that he didn't know where White Puppy went. I asked if he was in the basement. He shrugged and I told him he was welcome to go look.
He never went and looked. White Puppy was lost to the depths of the basement and apparently, if you are a child, you can only venture down there with a willing sibling. The last month has been a very busy one, and there hasn't been a willing sibling available, and M never remembers until bedtime.
Last night, as I was tucking M in, I noticed that White Puppy was still MIA. I asked about it, and M teared up. I said goodnight and went to the 'oh so scary basement' and found White Puppy quite quickly. I walked into my sons room with White Puppy behind my back. He instantly sat up and tried to see what I had. When I showed him, he started to cry and he hugged his beloved dog. I sat and hugged them both and he thanked me while tears ran down his face.
"I thought he was gone forever", he whispered.
As I left his room, I realized that I was my son's hero. He was too scared to go rescue his dog, and too stubborn to ask me to do it for him.
I smiled to myself as I went downstairs. I'm glad I could brave the deep, dark basement for the lovey that was lost.
Sleep tight, my son.