Sunday, January 22, 2017

Every Baby Meets Her Monkey-Doo

Monkey-Doo was a sock monkey I had when I was little. I loved Monkey-Doo and dragged him everywhere. The ingenious little loops he had for ears made it that much easier to haul him wherever I went.  
Sock Monkey Meditation with Border by Teece Aronin. 
Available at 
I also had a blanket that I'd loved into something resembling a pile of gray spaghetti. One day I lost it, and was so inconsolable that my mother resorted to the drastic action of turning off the TV right in the middle of the Captain Jolly show. This forced my brothers into a truly concerted search effort instead of the half-hearted "Yeah, Mom, we're looking" kind of attempt it had been. Someone finally found it at the bottom of my mother's clothespin bag and the world as we knew it was saved.

At some point, most kids have a security object like a sock monkey or a blanket. For my son, Jon, it was something he named "Lambley." Lambley was a sweet little thing, either a rabbit or a lamb, dressed in yellow and white pajamas and a nightcap with holes for the ears. Lambley was a Christmas present to Jon when he was about four and he helped Jon through his first trip to sleep-away camp at age six.

Lambley went missing one day, and even now, at 16, Jon occasionally asks if I think he'll ever turn up. Not that Jon still needs a security object, but the sentimental attachment is strong. Sadly, after two moves, one of them out-of-state, and still no sign of Lambley, I no longer expect him to show up. I have a feeling I hurt over that more than Jon does.  

My daughter, Syd had something she called "Pink Baby." Pink Baby was a little cloth doll with satin slippers and a satin-trimmed bonnet. It was, surprisingly enough, pink. Eventually Syd started calling it Tan Baby because she had dragged it over a surprising number of surface areas for one so young, leaving it nowhere close to pink. Sometimes I half expected to find traces of moon rock in its frock. Pink Baby had been a present from Syd's grandmother who sent more of them every few months when it became apparent our lives would be miserable should Syd lose it without a backup.

One day at daycare Tan Baby got lost and Syd's pain was agonizing to see. The other problem was that by this time Syd was old enough to know the difference between Tan Baby and a backup doll which would have been a conspicuously pristine pink and not a love-worn tan.

What was a mother to do? While Syd was down for her nap, I took a new Pink Baby out of the package, dropped it behind my rear tire, and drove back and forth over it until it looked like a reasonable facsimile of Tan Baby.

The deception worked until the real Tan Baby resurfaced at daycare three weeks later. I ended up telling my daughter those "Santa's helpers" kinds of fables with Tan Baby having lots of little sisters who fill in for her since she can't be everywhere at once.

Don't judge me.

I have no idea what happened to Monkey-Doo, just as I have no idea what happened to Lambley. As to Tan Baby, she's still around as is one of her little sisters.

It seems they're indestructible - even when you drive a car over them.