I wasn’t really a teddy bear kid in the sense that I had to sleep with him every night.  Mostly he hung out on top of my bed or propped in a corner.  I loved him but didn’t pay him much mind.  I made those overalls myself when I was about 11 and you can see that I’ve liked purple for a very long time.  His music box no longer works and I don’t even remember the tune it played.  He has got to be over 40 years old. 

I had an aunt threaten to kidnap him during a visit.  She thought he was adorable and said she wanted him.  It was all fun and games until I had to sneak into her guest room and take him out of her suitcase.  I don’t play.  

My son has had his teddy since birth.  Teddy is smushed and well-loved.  That damn bear was banned from leaving the house after a hectic re-tracing of all the many errands we had run the afternoon he disappeared.  We were lucky to find him on the bottom shelf of a medical gift shop where my son had placed him.  When it was time to pack for the dorm, I enforced the rule even more so.  Teddy would wait, safe from pranks or drunken roommates, until he returned.  

I’ve guarded that bear for years.  I’ve washed him and repaired him.  I know my son values and loves him.  Still, I know I will feel apprehensive when my son decides to take him. 

It was nice to visit with my teddy again.  He is going into storage and I will not see him for many years.  I take comfort in knowing he is safe and will look exactly the same when I again open the box.