Lambie: The Story of a Lovey

So I've mentioned my son's lovey "Lambie" in the past. Not an original name (but it beats the name Gund assigned it, which was "Winky." Um, yeah. 'Cause giving a lovey a nickname used for penises SURE won't send a kid to therapy later in life.) Not even a terribly original lovey (I personally wanted him to attach to his blanket/bear toy (is it a blanket or is it a bear?), a lovey my friend Meg described as "the only one that asks an existential question." But despite my better efforts, Lambie became his favorite Mostly Companion (other than me), and all was well. Well, all was well after Lambie's radical rattleodectomy, which took place in October, after we realized her jingling siren song was waking the little guy when he rolled over her in the night.

Interestingly, for some reason--probably because we usually insist that Lambie stay in the crib so she doesn't get lost--the only pic I have of D-lite with Lambie is this one, when he's like 5 days old. Lambie (not to be confused with the Reverend Al Sheepton, at the top of the picture) is only barely visible on the right edge of the picture and is, at this point, still in her original fluffy, clean, white state.
















But anyway, as I said, all was well with Lambie and the Matic family for many months. Lambie went South with us for Christmas. She was carried out of the crib for during especially emotionally fragile moments, and we learned to be grateful for her presence.

Then this week I learned also to be grateful for mass marketing and for the fact that my child could have cared less for a more original and interesting toy. That's because over the last month or so, Lambie has taken on something of an odor. Daddymatic broke the news to me gently by saying, "Sweetie? Lambie kinda smells like a cesspool." Lambie also has been gray for a long time, and the tips of her ears are downright black. Here is Original Gangsta Lambie (or maybe she should be Lambie the Unwashed?) in her current state (Note her grimy ears. Note the dingy caste of her coat. Note that this blog doesn't have a scratch and sniff option, and be glad) :
















We decided something must be done about Unwashed Lambie, so we got on the internet and found, lo and behold, that not only do they sell Duplicate Lambies, but they even come in a 2-pak in order to avoid precisely the dilemma in which we found ourselves! So we ordered a new Lambie, and she came today.

Here's the new, pristine Lambie. Note how she's so clean it hurts the eyes. Note how her fur shines--and not with hand grease and dried drool.
















So Lambie got here, her rattleodectomy was quick and painless, and I made the swap just after afternoon nap. I wondered if D-Lovah would take to her at all, so I held my breath. It turned out he'd seen me swoop in, carry off O.G. Lambie and hide her on top of the entertainment center, because when I asked, "Where's Lambie?" he looked at the top of the entertainment center and whined. I pointed to Pristine Lambie on the floor and he squealed in recognition, scooped her up and immediately began applying a thin veneer of baby saliva to her face. I was so happy--I felt like a veterinarian who'd convinced a mother cat to take her runty baby back into the litter. Part of me didn't want him to settle, wanted him to "accept no substitutes," but the other 90% of me is just really glad he's easy to please and that he will not have to endure a Lambie-free environment whilst O.G. Lambie is having her first bath.

So here he is with Pristine Lambie.





















He really is happy, but my stupid camera only catches his expression just AFTER he smiles. This picture makes me wanna say, "Baby, Daddymatic made me do it!"

Tune in for updates on the Great Lambie Laundering of 2005.