Ryan has always been very tactile – he’s fascinated by things that are scratchy, or smooth, or shiny, or fluffy. We have a very soft giraffe-print blanket that he loves to snuggle in and rub his face on. So it’s no surprise that he adored the two birthday presents he just got that are soft.
One is a stuffed beaver, which is not only soft but has the added advantage of a tail which doubles as a convenient carrying handle. And it’s just the right height so that when I set it on the table at the bottom of the stairs, it’s exactly at Ryan’s eye level when he marches past. Which means he generally comes to a screeching halt in front of it, stares in its eyes for a moment, then buries his face in its belly. And then marches on, only to do exactly the same thing on his next circle past. It’s good for cuddling in the playpen, too. It has chewable appendages. And it’s a good transportable size.
The second soft present he got is something I’m sure we’ve all seen on TV. Sing the jingle with me, everybody: “It’s a pillow…it’s a pet…it’s a Pillow Pet!” That’s right, Ryan got an official Pillow Puppy. In “Pet” form, he nuzzles it nose to nose and tries to tuck it under his arm like a football. But in “Pillow” form, he wrestles it like he’s in a Roman arena:
Not only does he nuzzle it with his face, he gives it the full-body nuzzle, he throws himself on it, he rolls over it and makes it roll over him. He immerses himself in it. He hugs it, bonks it, drools on it, sits on it, hugs it, and stares at it. (I haven’t decided yet if this means we’ll definitely have to get a dog when he’s older, or that we should under no circumstances get a dog when he’s older.)
But for now, he’s contented to roll around and wrestle with his Pillow Pet instead of a real pet. And considering that the bruises he accidentally causes when he rolls around and wrestles with me were beginning to get considerable (and painful), I’m happy to relinquish my Wrestlemania role to Puppy. Although whenever he needs a wrestling opponent who actually wrestles back, I suspect that Daddy (who carries noticeably more muscle and is considerably more bruise-resistant than Mummy) will still be happy to oblige. Which makes every one of us – THE WINNAAAAAAAAAH!!!!
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