Lovey Kingdom

Lovey Kingdom

 Several years ago when my middle child was born, a good friend of mine was selling loveys wholesale out of her home. Since she is also my middle child's Godmother, we got the ultimate hook- up with these loveys. Frogs, monkeys, lions, lambs (blue and white), some embroidered with his name on them, and some not. We even became the recipients of a very large blanket frog. They are super soft. On the occasion that he climbs into bed with us at night when he is sick or scared, he will inevitably bring a lovey into the bed with him.  It is not uncommon to later find that lovey draped across my husband's face, though I doubt he'd admit it. These loveys have been with us for almost five years now. I haven't counted, but we must have at least ten or twelve, and that's not including the three or four my sixteen month old also has in his possession. They have been on car rides, to the hospital, doctor's offices, the pool, the grocery, and parks. I'm a  self- proclaimed germaphobe, and I don't really like things taken from the house where they can possibly swipe up the latest form of e coli. But with each child I have become more lax, and if it gets us more quickly out of the house and to our destination, so be it
Years ago we had an all out Dutton crisis on our hands when Monk Monk went missing. He'd traveled to my parents house, and we couldn't remember if he'd made it home. Not only was our house on high alert, but my parents were searching their grounds high and low. It was traumatic for our son because for whatever reason he had picked this one as his favorite. My friend tried to get a replacement, but short of having to run it over with our car to make it look like the old Monk Monk, he was just not the same. See, our son had picked the face where the mouth was and the smile was a half smile, and the ear was worn down just right. So, as you can imagine, the fake substitute did not suffice. We essentially gave up looking and tried to make Froggie or Lambie be next in line. After about a week or so I was outside with the kids, and I screamed. I must have screamed louder than I thought because my husband thought I'd seen a snake or rodent. He ran outside to find me jumping around because Monk Monk was found underneath our deck inside an old plastic fire truck. Now we have a rule, that only one lovey leaves the premises at a time.
The other night, my son came to climb in bed with us around 3:45 am. He was hungry. After finding a cereal bar and some milk and guiding him to his bed, he requested I lie down with him. He and my oldest son share bunk beds. The middle child is on the bottom bunk. I have a confession  that if ever I get a nap, which is rare, this is my favorite spot. It's like a cave. My years at sleep-away camp were always a dilemma...choose the top bunk and no one steps on it, or choose the bottom bunk and love the cave-like appeal. I think the cave is definitely my first choice as an adult. Once I climbed in his bed, I realized that he had created a "lovey barrier" by hanging all of the loveys from the top rail of his bunk bed. We have always called his mountain of loveys in his bed "Lovey Kingdom," but this took it to another level. I climbed in and as I snuggled in with him, I realized that the loveys were creating more than a cave appeal, and I actually felt safer. I know it sounds like I'm getting carried away, but it really made me feel just like a child again. There was no way the monsters in bad dreams could get me. I'm not even really sure if this is why he did it, and I've yet to ask, but I get it.  As a neat freak who makes the bunk beds every day (crazy I know) the hanging loveys just didn't give the room that ala Pottery Barn feel. So while making the bed the other day,  I took them all down. However now, after sleeping with them protecting me, I have decided to leave them up. After all, in a few years, I'm sure I'll be packing them up in a box trying to preserve his childhood through the face of a lamb. It's possible tonight, I may see if I can grab a lovey to put on my pillow, and I'm hoping it's one with the smell of his hair having just been washed. Better yet, maybe I can find one with some sweet sticky syrup from our Saturday morning pancake ritual. 

Monk Monk (the original)