Finley has got Mummy Bear. Gabriel has got Doggy and Bear. Eleanor has Keekie. Caitlin has poor little Pasquale and our Helen, aged thirty two and a half, has got Jimmy the Dressing Gown.
Oh yes. Helens
Helen was a ritualistic child. She couldn’t go to bed without Jimmy, Dummy and Beans (A kind of rubber faced fabric doll with beans in his tummy). Me, I skipped the stairs to bed all by myself. I never had a single childhood "friend" other than my imaginary mate Peter who had to have a place set for him at the table…
Even now I find the whole "
While I appreciate the comfort Mummy Bear has provided, I find him to be a stressful little matter. What if we lost him forever? What if Finley still wants to take him to bed when he is nineteen and three quarters and it is socially unacceptable? What if Finley really does love him more than he loves me (Apparently him and Mummy Bear are "moving to another house" because they don’t love me anymore!). What if bit by bit, I started to cut little bits off him till there wasn’t much left to love? Wouldn’t that be a good plan? Maybe Helen won’t notice if I cut an arm or two off Jimmy the dressing gown too…?
Lordy, what the hell is wrong with me? Is this some kind of warped form of jealousy because I haven’t got a dressing gown of my own to love? Should I go and claim the housekeepers equivalent? A nice crocheted little pinny to stroke as I fall asleep? Should I sneak into Finn’s room at night and borrow Mummy Bear to see what all the fuss is about? And more than all of this: does my lack of love for something snuggly mean I’ve got committment issues?? Are these children with deep attachments to fuzzy things simply teaching themselves how to love well? To love something simply because it is…?
Peter where are you now, now that I need you? Tears on my pillow…