Giraff-y

Before Niamh was born her Aunt Chris sent her this giraffe blankie. Niamh has always liked her giraffe, but her relationship with Giraff-y has now progressed to--shall we say--obsession. Giraff-y accompanies us on trips to Home Depot, the park, the gas station, the grocery store (where we almost lost hir in a bin of corn), and every other imaginable place.

In the early morning hours, i.e., 5:45 am, I hear Niamh talking to Giraff-y in her crib. I think Giraff-y must have a good sense of humor or some interesting things to say because s/he alone can keep Niamh occupied to allow for an additional 15 minutes of sleep for her parents. Thank you Giraff-y.

Niamh's attentiveness means that Giraff-y also gets waffles with syrup, sardines, raspberries, crackers and anything else entering Niamh's mouth, including peanut butter or the occasional lollipop. Enforcing a separation between Niamh and her Giraff-y during mealtimes, sleep times, moments of playtime, other unforeseeable scenarios--or any other time when Niamh sets her mind on hugging, smelling, clenching, or kissing her beloved artiodactyl--results in an excruciating wail and very large tears.

I don't mind that Niamh has grown attached to Giraff-y; in fact, I'm glad she finds hir comforting. Niamh's relationship with Giraff-y conjures up vivid memories of Oly, my childhood stuffed puppy (i.e., comfort item) who accompanied me everywhere (sometimes pulled on a leash I'd make out of hair ribbons or the like).















Oly is the only stuffed animal I chose to keep from the boxes of stuffed animals saved from my childhood. And I gratefully marvel at my parents' patience in indulging my Oly-moments, dog biscuits for Oly, a collar for Oly, hugs and kisses, and inquiries to Oly directly "Oly do you want a sip of milk?"

My mom lovingly washed and stitched and patiently washed and re-stiched that dog countless times.


















The smell of fresh ivory soap and Oly's matted fur and scratched eyes fill me up with sweet
nostalgia. Once on a family trip to Disney World when I was 8, Oly nearly became a statistic of lost stuffies if not for the kindness of a stranger (I recall him as a young businessman) who ran down a corridor of the old National Airport to deposit Oly safely in my arms. I'm not sure who was more relieved, me or my parents.

Finn never really took to a comfort item for an extended period of time so this is our first foray into the oh-my-gosh-what-will-we-do-if-giraffy-suddenly-disappears world. Last night I ordered 2 more identical giraff-y's. They should arrive this week.