So before Lillienne was born, I bought a pack of ten finger puppets from Ikea. I didn’t know that I was investing in 10 bite size “security blankets”.
There’s a giraffe (Dustin says hyena but he is clearly delusional), a monkey, a bear, a frog, a toucan, a duck, a panda, and I’m pretty sure the rest are scattered about at Granny’s place and Auntie’s house.
The past few weeks, Lillienne MUST have one these clenched into her tiny left fist, carrying it wherever she goes. She carries one everywhere, and hasn’t lost one yet. She has one in her first when she goes to bed, and it is still in her fist when she wakes up. She has one mashed up in her fist while she eats her cheese, crackers, fruit, etc, and a couple of the puppets now smell like old cheddar and sausage.
She takes them in the bath with her. Dustin says this is FINE! (He takes it away when she starts sucking the bathwater out of them…) but I usually draw the line at the tub. Although I guess they do need to be washed, too.
In the last 500 or so photos of her, there is ALWAYS colorful small object in her hands.
Last week we went to the store and when we came home we realized she must have dropped the little bear puppet somewhere. My heart felt crushed. One of Lillienne’s tiny puppets was lost and alone, no longer crushed in her chubby left fist, probably abandoned in a murky dirty snowbank or in an aisle at Sobey’s.
And then last night we found it. Beside her car seat in the truck. And we were BOTH thrilled, Lillienne and I. Lillienne, because the puppet belonged in her hand, all mashed up. And me, because a little part of her babyness was salvaged.
I took one and put it in her memory baby box. Must. Savour. Babyness.