Yesterday I was sitting for my friends' two boys again. As usual, we all very much enjoyed each other and our time, but of course they were very happy when their parents walked in the door in the evening. I'd mostly packed our bags already, so I did a quick check as I usually do, we said our goodbyes, and away we went back home. Didn't think anything was out of the ordinary...until bedtime.
I asked Daddy to get Munch's bed ready--her pillow and music box and lovies were all in one of the bags I'd brought with me, as she takes her nap at their house. Daddy dutifully unpacked everything, and then came to ask me the fateful question: Where's Tigger? As any parent of a child who has a favorite stuffed toy will know, that question is do-or-die, especially at bedtime. If the child has the toy, all is well and sleep comes easily. But if not...look out!
Well, we searched the house. We searched the car. We searched everywhere in between. I called my friends' phones, and had to leave messages for both. Tigger had to be at their house, as he certainly was not at ours...I just didn't remember actually taking him out of the naptime bag I'd packed him into that afternoon. So now we were left with a Munch who was tired and ready for bed, but didn't have her bedtime buddy.
All I can say is, I'm thankful that Tigger is not her only well-loved toy. Yes, he's absolutely #1 in her book, but she also has a cute little Monkey (#2), and Bunny and her stuffed tiger Hobbs (both #3). She asked for Tigger as soon as I laid her down, of course, and I told her we were looking for him, and to enjoy the others while we looked...which was mostly true...And she mostly complied. She WAS tired, after all, so as long as she had something loved to snuggle with, she would be ok. But I felt like there was a little ticking time bomb in that room, just waiting to go off.
A couple of hours passed, the Munch had fallen asleep, and Tigger had not been found, although I did at least have confirmation that the messages had been received. A quip was made about Tigger having gone off hunting hefalumps and woozels, and how irresponsible it was of him to do so when he knew the Munch was in need of him...and how Tigger really is just not known for being responsible to begin with...
Daddy and I went to bed without futher issues, but that little time bomb did indeed go off the next morning...at 5am. Crying, sobbing, "Whea Tig-ah go? Tig-ah!! Tig-ah!! Mama, whea Tig-ah?" Daddy went in first to try to sooth, to no avail. I went in after him, and soothed her inconsolable self as she moaned and asked for her missing friend. I decided to try one last substitution: "Would you like Baby?" Normally, I don't give her the babydoll in bed, because it has a hard face and hands, and my rule is soft things only. But there are times when even good rules need a little stretching. ;) She accepted Baby, albeit provisionally I'm sure, and we were able to get back to bed for another couple of hours. But then all morning long, if she wasn't distracted well enough, she wanted to know about Tigger. Oh, did she miss that little toy.
This morning after running some errands, I went over to my friends' house, either to retrieve Tigger if he'd been found by then, or to help them search. The older of the two boys greeted us at the door with a bright orange stuffed toy, and the Munch's face...well, I think I've typed and deleted about a dozen different words already here, and I simply can't find one to describe the utter joy that instantly overthrew anything else that may have been going on in it. Every corner and nook and cranny of that little face just lit up ecstatically as she reached for her Tig-ah, and she did not let go of him for the next good 30 minutes or more.
As Daddy put it, we have never been so relieved to see a stuffed toy in our lives...
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