Security blanket and stuffed toys

Along time ago I read a sweet short story by Filipino writer Marivi Soliven called The Unicorn. It’s about a little boy who owned a stuffed pink-and-purple polka dotted flannel unicorn who he loved more than life itself. A toy who provided him with "softness and peace and cuddling at night..." He slept with her, played with her, and did just about everything with her. But as the story progresses the little boy grows up and soon forgets his childhood toy until she, saddened by his absence, disappears from his life only to reappear years later in the life of his child.

It’s a touching story and pretty much captures what happens to us as we grow older. As children we’re allowed to rely on things like stuffed toys and blankets for security and comfort but as we grow up we’re expected to be able to start handling things on our own and we realize we don’t need security blankets and soft toys to help us sleep at night. As this realization sinks in, our faithful old inanimate childhood friends find themselves deep in the closet or thrown into the garage sale box.

It’s sad but true in almost all cases. The cycle may not always be the same but I’m sure everyone can remember one or more special toys they had growing up, toys that have perhaps vanished over the course of time or simply gotten lost in storage somewhere along the way. I had several special friends like this – a gray elephant named Judy, a baby monkey named Momo, a cute brown bear named Kyle, and several others that moved in and out of my bed and shelves. I often find myself thinking about them and how much comfort they offered me in times of distress and great sorrow. Like Judy, who kept the boogeyman away after I watched It as a child, or Momo who soaked up the tears from my first broken heart, and Kyle’s soft fur repeatedly helped me battle insomnia. It’s amazing how much soft fur, flannel, and stuffing can mean to us.

And undoubtedly, not all toy relationships end in neglect or loss. Some people hold on to the special toys that they’ve learned to love throughout the years. I find it adorable to meet people with playthings like this. It’s not surprising to find that through all the years of loving these toys have so much character they practically seem alive! It’s the velveteen rabbit syndrome. After all, who knows, maybe the blue fairy really exists and several discarded toys everywhere have found themselves coming to life.

It’s a sweet theory and one I used to ponder on because my mother is one of those people who have a special stuffed toy to cherish. A cute little brown lion named Leo. Leo has been a part of our family for as long as I can remember. He was a present to my mom when she was in the hospital from her friend Jean and it was love at first sight. He hasn’t left her side since and will be turning a whopping 17 years old this September.

He’s the perfect fit of the stuffed toy security blanket. My mom can’t sleep without him and pretty much can’t even sit still without him. He’s been on all family vacations and even on some vacations that I didn’t go on. He’s accumulated a wardrobe over the years that rivals my own, complete with Halloween costumes and sports outfits. He even has an allowance that has me begging for a loan when I’ve shopped too much.

Leo is the most amazing thing. He has even more character than some people. He has a bin of toys and books and even has his own favorite cartoons. Over the years he’s come up with several different facial expressions (or rather my mother and I have come up with different facial expressions for him by playing with his face). He’s got smiley faces, frowning faces, shocked faces, and angry faces. It’s not an exaggeration when I say I can look at him and know what he’s thinking. And over the years he’s grown a stuffed family of his own. After a couple of years of being with us, my mom bought him some friends – other lion toys to keep him company – and now there’s practically an entire lion pride in her room.

He’s been the source of a lot of comfort over the years. Whenever I was sick, Leo would stay by my bedside until I felt better. He (with my mom’s help) brings me hot soup or buys me juice or gives me an extra blanket when it’s cold. It’s strange but when I’m feeling sad, hugging him makes me feel better. He’s even been the catalyst for reconciliation during some of the worst arguments my mother and I have had.

Admittedly, Leo is really not too much to look at anymore. His once large and fluffy mane has been hugged down to practically nothing. His bald patches continue to grow over the years and his once shiny brown eyes have a few chips and scratches. His tail is as flat as a pancake from being in clothes all his life and his body has been loved down to a softness that only 17 years could accomplish. These days he looks less like a lion and more like a bear. He’s even been mistaken for a monkey, but I love this little toy as much now, if not more than I did when he was the perfect specimen.

And Leo is not the only velveteen rabbit I know. I have several friends who have favorite stuffed toys of their own as well. My good friend Eleanor has a little bear named "Gello" with cute little purple socks, one of my teenage students in theater class has a little brown bear named "Chiquito" that helps him memorize his lines, my friend’s sister has a stuffed pig named "Patches," my cousin’s pride and joy is a stuffed rabbit named "Poppsie,"and even Manila’s beloved eventologist Tim Yap has been seen fooling around with his little cow toys and Kermit the frog accessories.

Toys are not only for the young but also for the young at heart. Sometimes when the going gets tough and we need to be alone without being really alone, a stuffed animal can provide the perfect company. We can talk to them and be assured that we have their 100 percent attention. We can cry on them, and sometimes we can just hug them – after all, who ever really gets too old for " softness and peace and cuddling at night..."?