July 26, 2018

stuffie invasion

I've asked my son to go through his hanging net of stuffed animals and ... thin out the herd, as it were.  He estimates at least half of them will have residual sentimental value sufficient to make him fight to retain them.  I have no problem with this.  It still results in the shifting of a metric ton of stuffies to Goodwill.

The net is one of my greater feats of engineering.  It is so remarkably overloaded that the shifting of a single stuffie will bring about the collapse of the entire structure and all of them will tumble to the floor below.  Each one is load-bearing, except for the two on the left end.  I would wring my hands when he acquired a new one, because I was the one who had to pull in the dining chair and stand on it and carefully - carefully - add the stuffie to the collection, without making the empire fall.

Sometimes, I was successful.  Sometimes.

The larger items need consideration, too.  His closets are full of stuffies that would never have fit in an overhead net.  Many are also going to tug heart-strings and make the cut, but some things, like the Angry Birds pillow, are a joke and should have been tossed long ago.

There is an enormous Lightning McQueen pillow in one closet that needs a good home.  This was his Christmas gift at age three.  He visited it regularly at the Disney Store when his father and I used to frequent the mall.  He pined for it.  Somehow, we smuggled it to New York with us, visiting friends for the holidays, and on Christmas morning we placed it beside him instead of under the tree, for the very simple reason that it was half-again as long as he was.  He awoke and saw it and exclaimed, "I am happy for this!  Santa went to the mall and bought it for me!"  He climbed on top of it and hugged it and slept for two more hours.

The green Gund frog and the wind-up music box lamb are mine.  They belonged to my first son, but the kid had a brief love affair with the frog as a toddler.  The lamb is a conundrum.  It plays "Jesus Loves Me, This I Know" when you wind it up, another PTSD trigger, one I often forget.  I can't get rid of it.  I can scarcely bear to look at it.  It's Emily Dickinson's sweeping up the heart and putting love away.  Just that.  It has become a thing that one puts away.  I will have to find it another home, on another shelf.  It will no longer have similar surroundings in his closet.

As for my own stuffie collection, it continues to grow.  Let the kid accuse me of hypocrisy.  I ain't bothered.

Group hug!


  1. Very sweet. I still have my cuddly toys from being a child. Can't throw them away

    1. I definitely won't force him to get rid of any toys he still has feelings for - no worries there! He's a sentimental guy.