A Mommy & a Bunny
Since Dash was 11 months old, he’s been saying “Daddy” with some regularity. All my efforts to force the word “mommy” into his vocabulary have failed, and as the days and months pass, I become more and more disturbed and anxious; wondering what piece of shit word is going to wiggle itself into the regular rotation before me.
Ice cream. Santa. Puppy. Moo cow. Hungry. Juice. Blue’s Clues. [Dora, Elmo, and several other registered Trademark items] Milk. Crackers. The child said ‘vitamin’ before he said mommy, for Christ’s sake.
Imagine my joy this morning as he bolted out of his room. He had a friend over, and when I saw Dash come running out of the room, I was guessing that either Riley had taken some of Dash’s raisins, or that Pink Bunny was in grave danger.
Pink Bunny is Dash’s security blanket, only in pink stuffed rabbit form. Given to him as an Easter basket gift from a distant relative when he was still an infant, it’s obviously the most important thing he owns. If you don’t kiss bunny when he goes to sleep, you are in trouble. If bunny doesn’t get a sip of your drink, you’re in trouble. If bunny doesn’t have her own spot on pillow, you’re in trouble. Please don’t ask me what happens when bunny has to go for a “vacation” in the washing machine.
One look at Dash’s tear-stained face provided me with the answer. It was definitely bunny. I went into his bedroom and saw Riley, confused as hell, standing in the middle of the room with bunny in his left hand. He had bunny by the neck, and her limp head was dangling loose, appearing to be choked so hard that little stuffing was left in that area. Riley clearly had no idea what was going on. I asked him if he wanted to see Elmo, and grabbed the stuffed Elmo off the bed. Elmo, bright red and practically untouched, was an instant distraction, and bunny fell to the floor with that sad Velveteen Rabbit sort of thump - I knew what Dash was thinking. She’s hurt.
Dash rushed over to bunny’s lifeless body on the floor, and scooped her up. He patted her on the head and hugged her so tight I thought I saw his arms losing circulation. He looked up at me and pushed bunny towards me, saying, “Kiss”. I kissed bunny on the head and told Dash that bunny was all better. We can all stop and catch our breath, tragedy was averted.
Dash sat down on the floor, cuddling the bunny, patting her repeatedly, and I started to walk out of the room. I had reached the door when I looked back just in time to hear him whisper into the stuffed pink ear, “Mommy, you’re ok. ”
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