Every night, I sneak into my son’s bedroom. The hall light casts a soft glow through the doorway as I tiptoe close. He’s sleeping, soundly. Little snores come from the bed, and his blonde hair falls onto his pillow, drying from the night’s bath.
I could stand by his bed and stare for hours, thinking of how he is mine and how perfect he is despite the messiness of life and his momma.
But no. I have a greater purpose.
I must remove the lovies.
It all started before he was born when my husband bought a small brown monkey that we named Templeton. Our boy slept with Templeton starting at nine months old, hugging him close every night. Then Hank the giraffe lovey came into the picture as a back-up, but soon became the front-running lovey. Since the two originals, we have added the following:
- Blue Nonny, Fall 2012
- Brown Nonny, Fall 2012 after Blue Nonny was left at school one evening
- Arlas the stuffed stingray, Summer 2012
- Monster, Winter 2012
- Rainbow Dash, Spring 2013
- Rosie the giraffe, Summer 2013
- Dayo the pink snake that is four feet long, Summer 2013
- Jeebo the turtle, Summer 2013
That list does not include the 2-3 books he has in bed every night, plus an assortment of Matchbox cars.
So my job every night is to sneak in and remove the bedtime lovies and cars and books from the bed. One by one, held breath by held breath, I wiggle and slip the cars out from under him. I move the books off the top of the covers, where they threaten to crash to the floor and wake him. I set stuffed animals in the basket beside the bed, only leaving Hank and Templeton for him to hold.
There are moments of terror when I’m sure I’ve rattled a car too loudly or pulled too hard. He stirs, and I hit the floor like a bomb is about to go off. But he rolls over and keeps sleeping. I know that if I don’t remove them, he’ll roll onto a car at 3am and I’ll have a middle-of-the-night snuggle buddy in my bed.
And by “snuggle buddy,” I mean kidney-kicker.
Maybe it’s time to start thinning out the lovies.
More from BA: