My readers who know me personally know that I have two
biological children as well as an adult stepdaughter. But I bet that none of
you know that I also have one more child. His name is E.E., and he is a sock
monkey.
My son never had a typical “lovey” like most kids have as
babies. We had a collection of four dozen plain white washcloths that we
referred to his “rags” that he used to cuddle with, chew on, and just generally
comfort himself with. But having two dozen of them that were identical, there were
always a bunch around in both cars and in every room of the house, any of them
that got dirty or damaged could be thrown away and replaced, and if we lost one
it was no big deal. So we didn’t really have to pay attention to or keep track
of the rags. But my daughter has decided that her sock monkey, E.E., is her
best friend and constant companion. And E.E. is in no way, shape, or form,
replaceable.
One of the first things my daughter says when she gets up in
the morning is, “Where’s E.E.?” despite the fact that he is lying in bed next
to her. If she leaves a room and comes back, she asks, “Where’s E.E.?” as if he’d
wandered off while she was gone. If she gets distracted by a toy and suddenly
realizes he’s not next to her, she’ll exclaim, “Where’s E.E.?” in great alarm.
When she’s overly tired, she’s even been known to sleepily inquire, “Where’s
E.E.?” while she’s holding him IN HER HANDS. She shares her snacks with E.E.,
she tucks him carefully under the blanket with her at nap time, she pretends to
change his diaper, she hugs and kisses him, she even holds conversations with
him. We have weekly arguments over whether E.E. has to stay in the car during
her gymnastics class or whether he will guard her sneakers in her cubby at the
gym. If E.E. is not visible to her at all times, she panics.
And because of that, I have to supervise E.E. as if he were
another child in the family. I need to be absolutely certain that I know E.E.’s
whereabouts at all times. If we leave a particular area, like a playground or a
restaurant, unless E.E. is holding someone’s hand, there is no hope he will
follow us like most children would. He’s like an independent, self-focused
child who pays no attention to the rest of the world. He neither notices nor
cares that the family is leaving, and stubbornly and silently stands his ground.
You would think that he would at least be easy to find since he stays wherever
he is put, and yet his tendency to wander (with a bit of help from one pair of
small hands or another) is notorious. I have to check on him every few moments
so he doesn’t have a chance to get far without my knowledge. Since he doesn’t
answer when I call him, it’s entirely up to me to figure out where he’s hiding.
So nose counts in my family these days include my son, my
daughter, and my monkey. I feel just as responsible for his health and
well-being as I do for my human children. And although he may not reward me
with hugs and kisses, he also never talks back, never misbehaves, and is
completely potty-trained. Which is more than I can say for my other children. So
I think I’ll keep him. (But don’t worry, I’ll keep the rest of them, too. The
hugs and kisses more than make up for everything else.)
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