Around bedtime last night, we noticed Hadley's
Snuggie bunny was missing. She has an almost unhealthy attachment to this thing and doesn't like him to be far from her sight. Knowing she'd need him to sleep, we started looking. We searched high and low, leaving no nook or cranny in this house untouched. We searched inside laundry hampers, trash baskets and behind furniture, becoming more frantic with each passing minute. I tried to recall where I'd last seen him and remembered with sickening dread that she had him with her when we went to pick up Wyatt from school (mental note: NEVER allow Snuggie to leave the house again). I tried to calmly read her stories and act natural. When the stories were over, I quickly stuck her in her bed, handed her the new snuggie we'd purchased as a back up and quickly left the room. There was a moment of silence, then she realized she'd been dooped and the wailing started. Remember the story where Trixie lost her Knuffle Bunny? Let's just say it was much less pleasant than that. She sobbed, wailed, screamed her baby babble at us, pointing off into the distance, threw herself down on her mattress dramatically, launched the imposter from her bed, sobbed some more. I tried rocking her, reasoning with her, reintroducing the fake snuggie cheerfully ("see, he's just like Snuggie!")...she just grew more hysterical. I confessed to Dayven that he
might be at school. I knew none of us would get much sleep so I put on my boots and drove to school, in hopes that maybe he was in the parking lot. He wasn't. I peered in the front window and saw him slumped over on the bench in the lobby where you remove your boots. JOY! The place was locked up like Fort Knox, but I wasn't giving up when I had come so close. I trudged around the perimeter of the school, through the snow drifts, peering in windows, looking for signs of life. Finally, I spotted someone in one of the classrooms. I started banging my hands on the window and flapping my arms like a mad women, trying to explain my dilemma. She kindly retrieved Snuggie from the lobby and passed him out the door. I was wearing only my pajamas and snow boots so I was near hypothermia by that point, but it was all worth it. Hadley was whimpering in Dayven's arms when I arrived home and she desperately grabbed Snuggie and hugged him close. She was so exhausted I only needed to rock her for a couple of minutes and she was out. phew! Maybe we'll have our phone number embroidered on him and install a GPS tracking device...
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| Can you tell the difference? Hadley sure can! |
Around bedtime last night, we noticed Hadley's Snuggie bunny was missing. She has an almost unhealthy attachment to this thing and doesn't like him to be far from her sight. Knowing she'd need him to sleep, we started looking. We searched high and low, leaving no nook or cranny in this house untouched. We searched inside laundry hampers, trash baskets and behind furniture, becoming more frantic with each passing minute. I tried to recall where I'd last seen him and remembered with sickening dread that she had him with her when we went to pick up Wyatt from school (mental note: NEVER allow Snuggie to leave the house again). I tried to calmly read her stories and act natural. When the stories were over, I quickly stuck her in her bed, handed her the new snuggie we'd purchased as a back up and quickly left the room. There was a moment of silence, then she realized she'd been dooped and the wailing started. Remember the story where Trixie lost her Knuffle Bunny? Let's just say it was much less pleasant than that. She sobbed, wailed, screamed her baby babble at us, pointing off into the distance, threw herself down on her mattress dramatically, launched the imposter from her bed, sobbed some more. I tried rocking her, reasoning with her, reintroducing the fake snuggie cheerfully ("see, he's just like Snuggie!")...she just grew more hysterical. I confessed to Dayven that he might be at school. I knew none of us would get much sleep so I put on my boots and drove to school, in hopes that maybe he was in the parking lot. He wasn't. I peered in the front window and saw him slumped over on the bench in the lobby where you remove your boots. JOY! The place was locked up like Fort Knox, but I wasn't giving up when I had come so close. I trudged around the perimeter of the school, through the snow drifts, peering in windows, looking for signs of life. Finally, I spotted someone in one of the classrooms. I started banging my hands on the window and flapping my arms like a mad women, trying to explain my dilemma. She kindly retrieved Snuggie from the lobby and passed him out the door. I was wearing only my pajamas and snow boots so I was near hypothermia by that point, but it was all worth it. Hadley was whimpering in Dayven's arms when I arrived home and she desperately grabbed Snuggie and hugged him close. She was so exhausted I only needed to rock her for a couple of minutes and she was out. phew! Maybe we'll have our phone number embroidered on him and install a GPS tracking device...
1 comment:
First, there is no such thing as an unhealthy attachment (I write you this note while comfortably snuggled into my blanky on the couch - yes, I'm 36), and second, it's so obvious neither you nor Dayven had any attachment to a blanket or snuggle anything as children if you really think you could fool her with an impostor! You have much to learn about attachment to Snuggie Bunny. My you never, ever lose him again!
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