He takes him everywhere.
Squishy Lion was a gift from a friend of mine to the toddler when he was born. She wrote a book – two books, actually – and had returned from her most recent tour with a knit yellow lion who, as it turned out, was soft enough that a newborn’s feeble hand could grasp it. And though he had a million plush toys he might have chosen from, he has barely regarded them because not one of them compares to icky old Squishy Lion.
When Squishy Lion was new, his face was bright and glorious, sunny yellow and soft. After 18 months of love and affection, though, our little friend has faded, hardened … browned.
He is tired, but still he goes everywhere with the toddler. We bought a backup so we could always have one clean, so even when one is in the laundry, the other is in-mouth or in-hand.
Squishy Lion is always, always there.
Except for the one day when I’m running behind and forget to take Squishy Lion out of my purse after stuffing him there to wrestle thirty pounds of wriggling resistance into a car seat and he joins me for a day at the office, and the toddler is – according to the report from daycare – lost and devastated, and he collapses into a heap of relieved weeping at the end of the day when they are finally – FINALLY! – reunited.
Maybe I need to buy a third Squishy Lion to leave at daycare?
Also, slightly related: