In our house, a multitude of stuffed animals and dolls dwell. Based on real or imaginary beasts, these pink monkeys, wide-eyed dolphins, slithering snakes, and dark-haired beauties created around the world have journeyed to our home. Gifted on special occasions by Aunts, Grandmas, Grandpas, and occasionally by my husband and I, these comfort friends became part of the motif of each of my children’s bedrooms.
The need to “downsize” for the sake of space usually resulted in outbursts of tears or looks of horror as if I suggested we chop off one of their arms or legs. As my son grew, he understood this. My daughter…not there yet. I fear for her future. If we continue at the same rate of accumulation, I see her, opening her bedroom door and being swallowed up forever by mounds of adorable, round-eyed, huggable toys.
I have a love-hate relationship with these cuddly creatures and plastic dolls that dress better than I do. Personally, I think the world needs fewer factories that create them, except for Pipsy and Ike.
Pipsy is a 14-inch, Madame Alexander, hand-painted in France, doll. She sports a soft body, eyes that open and shut and little tufts of hair painted on her shiny head. Before my daughter’s third birthday, I naively started my search for the perfect doll. After wading through lengthy descriptions of wetting dolls, talking dolls, and designer dolls, HOURS later I finally placed my order. During this period, as a family, we frequently traveled. I wanted a “comfort friend” for my daughter as she slept on airplanes, in strange hotel rooms, and moved between countries. This worked for my son.
My son had Ike. A gift from Aunt Jenny, Ike joined our family shortly after he turned three. A stuffed black and white wire fox terrier, years later we discovered was the main character of a series of books about a mischievous dog. Dear Mrs. LaRue: Letters from Obedience School by Mark Teague is one of them. After that, his other stuffed animals, like a lion and bear, took a back seat. He bonded with Ike immediately.
Ike traveled through airports with his head sticking out. “So he can breathe!” I sewed an elastic strap to my daughter’s carry-on and Pipsy rode securely through the airport, to avoid being lost forever in a foreign land. At bedtime, every single night they were tucked in beside each child. Ike came with his name. I can’t even remember Pipsy’s original name, because one day while playing with her four-year-old best friend from Germany, Pipsy came out of a blanket and “got born.” With her birth, she received a new name. A preschooler’s version of Pipi Longstocking. A favorite movie at their house. At Christmas most years, Pipsy and Ike received small gifts from my children, new doll clothes for Pipsy and a new collar for Ike.
Over time, Ike’s white fur changed to a dirty gray. Not due to lack of washing but wear and tear. Trust me, there is no product that can restore what’s left of his matted and sparse fabric. Several of Pipsy’s fingers bear teeth marks, her plastic is dingy, her knees dirty, and her hand-painted coloring faded. As my children age, I know the fate of these comfort friends. A keepsake box will become their permanent home. Over the past couple of years, Ike slowly receded into the background. It really won’t be long until it is Pipsy’s turn.
I see it coming, and I know this is natural and healthy. Just as it is natural and desirable for my children to move through different phases of development. Some phases we celebrate and others we will miss. Saying goodbye to comfort friends forces me to confront the reality that we are crossing a threshold from childhood into the first steps of adulthood. A bitter-sweet moment.
As for Pipsy and Ike, they will always be intertwined with my memories of my children when they were young. Little chubby hands zipping a furry friend into a backpack. Water poured into a bowl so Ike could drink. Sweet shrieks as Pipsy was dunked into a mess of warm water and bubbles without permission. Wet cheeks later that night when she had not dried enough to sleep in a bed.
Not unlike the beloved story of the Velveteen Rabbit, from the love of little hearts, Pipsy and Ike became real.
