Bear’s family, discovered (another oldie)

Marcus has a small stuffed bear that he loves. Actually, he has three. All have come from the same bin of bears at IKEA Department Store. (It’s a great bear—Blund Soft Toy—and it’s just $1.99. IKEA—you can’t beat it with a stick.)

I purchased the first bear many years ago, when I bought one for my niece. I couldn’t pass it up and I was into collecting bears at the time. This initial bear is a light tan, and he used to sit on my bed.

Then I became pregnant. I was so pleased with tan bear that I thought I should get one for baby—it’s soft, has no buttons, has sewn-on features, is very flexible and smushy and easy to hold onto… it’s a perfect bear for a baby. So, I returned to IKEA and found the bin of bears, which were now chestnut brown. In every other way, though, they were exact replicas of tan bear on my bed. So I bought one.

After Marcus was a few months old, he began to attach himself to Brown Bear. Eventually, he slept with Bear, chewed on him, hugged him, played with him… they were inseparable. After carting the bear to a few homes and events, I became concerned: what if we inadvertently left Bear somewhere? What if he fell from the car as we entered or exited and was then tragically squashed by a tire? We needed this bear. It was Marcus’ only lovey. So, the next time I visited IKEA’s neighborhood, I purchased yet another bear; Marcus was still pretty small at the time and he was sitting in his car seat inside the shopping cart, so I simply picked out brown bear #2 and handed it to him; Marcus appreciatively chewed on his face. We paid for the soggy thing, thus purchasing a bit of lost bear insurance.

Fast forward a few months; Todd and I were at IKEA yet again, purchasing an entertainment center with a much-needed door to hide things inside from the kid (this is another topic altogether). On the way to pick up components for the center, we stopped off to get some baby safety products such as additional outlet covers and drawer stoppers. Lo and behold, these safety items were located right behind the bin of bears.

“Let’s see if he notices,” I said, pointing to the bin. Todd nodded and we rolled the shopping cart very slowly and deliberately past the bin. Marcus, seated in the cart, was looking around absently, tired of shopping (we’d been there awhile). He glanced at the bin, and then after a moment, he gazed anew upon it. He even leaned in for a closer look. There they were, scores of Bears, all staring back at him, some upside down or half emerging from under another bear, some embracing each other… Marcus made a barely audible utterance, a sweet sound of recognition, a breathy mix of “ah” and “hey.” He reached for the pile of bears, unable to grasp one but likely snagging a handful of them in his imagination. It was such a dear moment, his sudden focus and delight, his chubby paw reaching out as he leaned toward an entire bin of his small, brown buddies. I had a stupid, fleeting thought that we should buy a whole bunch of them, take them home, put them in a pile and just let him sink into that soft, safe, welcoming lap of many little brown friends… and then common sense returned to me and we hurriedly left the bear aisle before our child could pitch a snit that all his bear pals were staying put while we walked away.

On that day at IKEA, Marcus glimpsed Bear’s whole family. It was pure sweetness.

P.S. Update: I just looked online, and this bear is out of production. As a result, parents are paying ridiculous amounts of money to find replacements on Ebay. If you have one of them? In good condition? Think about selling that thang.

Another kid update

Every now and then, when the child is wearing me down with his constant rebellions about everything from when and what to eat down to where I’m permitted to park his Matchbox cars, I need to step away and think of all the very cute and funny things he does daily.

He gets in a mood for hugs and then delivers them generously, usually clutching my legs as I’m standing but sometimes partly strangling my neck when he’s at my level. He’ll say it, too, as he’s moving in for one: “Big hug! I gonna give you big hug!” With his dad, it’s “monster hug” but it looks pretty much the same. Sometimes his stuffed animals hug each other—apparently they all love each other tremendously, regardless of whether they’re friends in the real animal kingdom—so it’s nothing for Mama Polar Bear to seek out a tiny lamb instead of her own baby bear, and hug the sheep for all its worth. Teddy is also quite demonstrative, and the two stuffed kitties are extremely loving as well.

Speaking of Teddy, we’re currently operating on just one bear. The other, the “twin Teddy,” was inadvertently left at my sister’s house on Monday. We didn’t even miss him until the moment she called to tell me what we’d done. But boy, come bedtime, he was severely missed. Tears welled, lower lip pouted out like a shelf, and I had insane but fleeting thoughts of journeying out to get Teddy right at that moment. (Fleeting, like I said… it was after 9:30 pm.) I kept pointing out that we still had one Teddy right here, clutched in the boy’s arms. We even had a lighter colored stand-in Teddy, who looks much cleaner and better preserved but has all the same features as the others. Other Teddy was having a little visit at his cousin’s. He was fine; he was in good hands. None of this made one iota of difference to the child; the logic did not offer any comfort. It never does. Eventually, because he was exhausted, our boy clutched the single Teddy and his Ellie and fell asleep asking, “Why? Why?” As if I, in my terribly finite and flawed brain, could ever address such a monumental query.

(You’ll be happy to know that the next night was easier, and last night, the little trooper didn’t even ask where other Teddy was. No worries: we’ll get him back on Monday. Oh, the stories Other Teddy will have to tell about his big adventure!)

And now back to why: That, you see, is the very favorite utterance of our son. Every single thing I speak is met with, “Why?” Why is it lunchtime? Why must we put Duplos away? Why is it bath night? And why must we go to the store? As all you wiser mom-figures know, answering said “why” does nothing to end the exchange—it only fuels it, thus leading to more and more whys until your head pops off… or something like that.

I wait with bated breath for warmer days, and I hope and pray for a more willing potty training student, soon. Prayers on that front are most welcome!

And mostly, I thank God for this wonderful little person every day.