Around here we have a little friend we call “Barney Bear.” Lucy loves him, he’s soft, he smiles all the time, and he makes a gentle shush-shush when you shake him. He’s so perfect that I had a strange thought the other day: how about buying a whole case of him?
I instinctively found this thought a little alarming. But why is that?
On the one hand, why not take advantage of mass production in order to guard against future loss of this beloved toy? If he ever had a bad spin in the washing machine, or got written on with permanent ink, or {gasp} got left behind on some outing — well, we’d just pull out his identical twin and happiness could be restored. We buy mass-produced items all the time, don’t we? Everything from diapers to onesies to a favorite food rolls off the factory lines so smoothly that we’re assured of our satisfaction with the next one as much as the last. So maybe stocking up on Barneys wouldn’t be a bad idea.
But I think there’s a difference. We replace a disposable diaper with a new one because, well, disposable diapers _have_ to be replaced! We eat the next Cheerio because the last one is already getting digested and absorbed into our bodies. They’re consumables by definition. But buying a bushel of Barneys would be hedging against _emotional_ loss. And I guess I don’t believe that can really work. It starts to sound more like the lonely millionaires who get their favorite dog cloned so they’ll always have someone to talk to. That’s really the heart of it, in fact: my scheme to stockpile Barney would feel like an attempt to cheat death — that it wouldn’t be replacement but reanimation I’d be attempting.
Besides, I admit that I believe “_The Velveteen Rabbit_”:http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0385077254/octothorppres-20 really does have it right: a beloved toy becomes unique when it’s really loved. So if Lucy really did love Barney, it wouldn’t be the product she loved but really Barney himself. If he were lost, then he’d be gone, and we’d have to be sad. Swapping in another as if it were just a replacement part of her childhood would be ineffective as well as a little industrial. Knowing that he’s one-of-a-kind means admitting we might have to be sad someday. (But of course, I could be wrong: maybe this tactic really can work. Has anyone tried it who can report on how it went?)
But now that I think about it, maybe what’s really creepy is that we humans fall in love with our stuffed animals in the first place!
One key thing Jon doesn’t mention is that Lucy doesn’t need Barney to fall asleep. If she did, then it would be a totally different story and we’d be buying stock in Barneys. :)
Benjamin has a special blanket that he sleeps with and I have 3 of them (all identical). The reason behind having 3 was more so I could have a clean one on hand if he spit up on one in the middle of the night. Now it’s handy because then I can wash one and he still has a clean one to sleep with if the laundry isn’t done at nap or bedtime. We make sure to rotate the blankets so they get equal use (equally worn) so that one doesn’t become more special than another so that we can continue to swap them out and not end up with one that’s really grimy from being chewed and drooled on.
I must agree though, that if he didn’t need it to sleep, I don’t think I would have more than one. He’s had a couple toys now that he really liked that have been destroyed by toddler curiosity. For example – he had a pull toy with several ducks in a row that quacked when pulled. He loved it and it taught him to say “quack quack”. Well, one day I guess he wanted to see if the ducks could swim and dunked the whole thing in our dogs water bowl (a large bowl because we have two large dogs). Now it still can be pulled, but it no longer quacks. He was initially upset, but has gotten over it and now does the quacking himself.
Josi has bonded with the burp cloth. I have 36 of them. I’m thinking of using them to make puppets.
My niece had a homemade bunny. Actually two. At almost 15 years old, they are still irreplaceable. My SIL told me that if anything were to become that special to my children, be sure you have extra. She tried for years to re-cover the bunny’s when all of the cloth fell apart, but none felt the same, and my niece will have none of it.
That said, my other niece has a toy cat. They have 2 of these toy cats, identical, but one is the one she loved and always knew when it was missing and you gave her the other. Smell maybe?
I’m lucky that niether of my kids have a comfort object, unless you count Mo’s thumb, which I pray never needs to be replaced!
Now, there’s a good reason we have two thumbs! :)
This is like an episode of “King of Queens” that I saw. Carrie finds out, while visiting Doug’s parents, that his dog is actually a “replacement” dog….in fact, replacement dog #4 or something like that. He hasn’t a clue. She figures it out while they are watching home videos…Doug (30-something “currently”) got his dog when he was 8 and the dog is still alive and young. The episode turns into him finding out all these secrets that his parents never told him (i.e. he’s canadian because he was born in Canada while his parents were on a trip). He has a small identity crisis and then because it’s magical sit-com land, he’s all better and learns the value of truth in the end.
I’m glad that you’ve thought through the “replacement” barney option. It’s tempting to protect little Lucy from that kind of pain but I agree that there’s something valuable to learn from it on this life journey.