Jimmy The Dressing Gown.

Dirty

Finley has got Mummy Bear. Gabriel has got Doggy and Bear. Eleanor has  Keekie. Caitlin has poor little Pasquale and our Helen, aged thirty two and a half, has got Jimmy the Dressing Gown.

Oh yes. Helens  comforter as  a child was  Jimmy the very small, green felted wool dressing gown. And Helens comforter as a grown up  is a very small green felted wool dressing gown who lives  under her pillow and follows her from house to house. Bless him. He isn't mine and yet I know how he smells. I know how it feels to rub the smocking around his neck...

Helen was a ritualistic child. She couldn't go to bed without  Jimmy, Dummy and Beans  (A  kind  of rubber  faced fabric doll with beans in his tummy). Me, I skipped the stairs to bed all by myself. I never had a single childhood "friend" other than my imaginary mate Peter who had to have a place set for him at the table...

Even now I find the whole "comforter" thing a bit strange. I live in fear of Mummy Bear being lost. At quarter to seven every evening my heart starts to race because the blasted little yellow blanket is nowhere to be seen. When a demented search reveals him hiding in the fridge, I watch in wonder as Finley bashes himself in the face with the little yellow critter as he falls asleep. Slowly but surely bits of him are being loved away. The silky ribbon edging has come away, and his little black nose is looking a little threadbare. And it doesn't matter how often I wash him, Mummy Bear stinks in a way familiar to every child who has ever loved an inanimate object half to death...

While I appreciate the comfort Mummy Bear has provided, I find him to be a stressful little matter. What if we lost him forever? What if Finley still wants to take him to bed when he is nineteen and three quarters and it is socially unacceptable? What if Finley really does love him more than he loves me (Apparently him and Mummy Bear are "moving to another house" because they don't love me anymore!). What if bit by bit, I started to cut little bits off him till there wasn't much left to love? Wouldn't that be a good plan? Maybe Helen won't notice if I cut an arm or two off Jimmy the dressing gown too...?

Lordy, what the hell is wrong with me? Is this some kind of warped form of jealousy because I haven't got a dressing gown of my own to love? Should I go and claim the housekeepers equivalent? A nice crocheted little pinny to stroke as I fall asleep?  Should I sneak into Finn's room at night and borrow Mummy Bear to see what all the fuss is about? And more than all of this: does my lack of love for something snuggly mean I've got committment issues??  Are these children with deep attachments to fuzzy things simply teaching themselves how to love well? To love something simply because it is...?

Peter where are you now, now that I need you? Tears on my pillow...

Read about more snuggly bezzie mates here in the tale of Dirty Wow Wow.

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