When I was pregnant with Bella, I bought her so many little things that I hoped and dreamed might one day be her lovey. Her little blanket. The stuffed frog that ribbited. Kitties. Soft rattles. Knitted little things.
All precious. All soft. All made for her to delight in, for the rapture to be unending as she found a “best friend” in it’s satiny goodness with pink and bows. They would be together forever. It would be adorable. A treasure.
Then Papi/Yellow Kitty entered the picture.
Originally a Wubbanub pacifier, it became a fixture in our home around 6 weeks after she was born. I realized the only way to get her to sleep and soothe was for her to suck on my finger. Or boob. So throwing all those, “OMG she’ll never breastfeed if you give her one” statements to the wind, I started using pacifiers. We breastfed till she was 15 months despite that.
As she got older, we began the Great Paci Hunt at bedtime. This consisted of Bella bawling in her room about “Papi”, us turning our house upside down looking for it, while I said bad words and swore that as soon as I could, that paci was going in the trash.
2 1/2 years later, I got my wish. Kinda. Bella brought me her paci before nap one day, and told me it was “blah.” Only it wasn’t blah. It was all cracked and broken. We’d bought several over the years, but I didn’t have any extra this time.
So I took a chance, showed her she couldn’t have it anymore, and then had a GENIUS idea.
I’d cut the paci out – and we’d just have the kitty! A cute little stuffed kitty. Problem solved.
Indeed. Problem solved. Creepiness factor up by 300 points.
So that’s the paci that is glued/sewn in. It can’t be taken out without mauling the face, and quite honestly that might be even creepier. Not to mention more traumatic for Bella who now has every feature of Yellow Kitty memorized. From yellow stripes to green evil smile.
Like when it was a paci, it comes with us everywhere. Target. Play therapy. Starbucks. Outside. Playdates. Car rides. Our play therapist said this was completely age appropriate, that was Bella’s safety item, and encouraged us to continue to let her have it as long as she wanted.
Which is fine. She adored it more than the paci part, if that’s possible.
Only at night, as she gets ready for bed, we tend to hear, “Uh oh, UH OH WHERE YELLOW KITTY GO?!” I’m not going to say that there aren’t some bad words said under my breath as we once again turn the house upside down looking for a creepy yellow kitty.
Why must she love something that ugly?
Oh. Um. So – this is my old lovey. D-duck. He’s actually a chicken. I’ve had him for 29 years.
Disregard how creepy yellow kitty is. I could have probably picked something cuter too.