I have dozens of photos of Teddy on my hard drive. He is often the kindling that ignites the morning tantrum, because I have wronged him in some way. I am supposed to seat him properly at her red plastic table in the morning while I fix her hair. ("NOOOOO! Teddy wants to sit on the stool! Not the chair!") Then I am supposed to sit him upright on the dining room table while she eats her waffle (with surry-up). We have to bring him to the grocery store. ("Can't Teddy just sit in the car? We won't be long." "No!") We bring him to church. We bring him out to dinner.
In order to grab Teddy for his date with the washing machine, I had to sneak into the kid's room at 5:00 a.m. and wrest him from her sleeping body. My goal was to have him clean and dry by the time she left the house with her father. And the plan worked. Teddy is now (temporarily) clean and de-gooey-ified. I feared his side seam would open up and spill Teddy guts all over my washer and/or dryer, but the $5.00 bear held his innards in. God love him. Twice since Teddy came to live with us, I have taken A to Build-a-Bear and spent far too much for larger and more attractive plush toys. They sit stoically on A's bed, while the clearance rack bear goes everywhere with her.
I just want to state for the record that if Teddy ever gets lost, I am moving across the country and changing my identity.