Lovey stayed home.

Lovey is a stuffed bunny. She is small and very well-loved. More than 10 years ago, when she was new, you might have recognised her as the grey bunny in blue-and-white striped pyjamas from the children’s book, “Goodnight Moon”. In fact, Lovey came to us as a gift with that very book.

Lovey belongs to my 11-year old daughter. Even before she could speak – in those early months, when she could just raise her head and “creep” across the floor – our little girl always reached for the same bunny. Thinking it would be useful to have a special “lovey”, as parenting books call them, I started putting the bunny into the baby’s crib at night and during naptime, so it would always have her scent and, hopefully, be of comfort to her wherever we went.

Well, it turns out that we went a lot of places and that bunny has come along every time, starting with an amazing trip to visit friends in Europe before our daughter had even turned one. The bunny is in every picture.

It was around that time that she indicated in every possible way that she wanted her Lovey Bunny – as we called her by then – pretty much all the time. It was also around that time that she started rubbing the bottom of the bunny’s soft rubbery feet against her cheeks to soothe herself to sleep. As a result, Lovey Bunny started to wear thin in the feet, even before her colour started to fade and before the fluff inside her got compacted from love and washing.

When our daughter was nearly two years old, I left her in good hands – her father’s – the night after the birth of our baby boy. That evening, I received a frantic call at the hospital from my husband, saying that our daughter kept asking for her bunny and he that couldn’t find it. She spoke fairly early but, like all young children, not clearly. She kept saying, “Bunny. Lawn-dwee”, so my husband searched the laundry room. Then, he searched her room. Then, with rising degrees of panic, he searched every room in the house for, by now, she was firmly attached to that bunny and could not sleep without it!

Now, I had been prepared for this situation and had a spare bunny up on the top shelf on the linen cupboard, which I instructed him to give to her. Second frantic call: she rejected it saying, “Dat NEW bunny. Dat not my bunny.” Finally, I recalled her toy plastic washing machine in the basement, which is, in fact, where bunny was. Crisis averted.

Over the years, there have been many frantic searches for Lovey. We always found her, often twisted in the sheets, under the bed or tucked in the sofa cushions. Lovey continued to travel with us and, indeed, would have an impressive passport had we kept one for her! When our daughter went away on her first overnight school trip in third grade at the International School of Brussels, I packed Lovey in the pyjamas, instructing her to look after my little girl. The next year, when the class went to France, Lovey helped out with a couple of homesick moments. By fifth grade, I asked if I should pack Lovey, which we did for “just in case”.

Now, here in St. Louis, there are no overnight school trips. However, sleepovers are popular and our daughter has her new friends here some weekends or gets invited elsewhere. Recently, when three of her new friends spent the night, I noticed that Lovey was nowhere near the bed but resided instead with all the other stuffed toys for the night. I said nothing.

For the first couple of sleepovers elsewhere, I asked if I should pack Lovey, who by now is tiny and faded, but still soft. Her little plastic eyes are worn but still seem gentle and reassuring somehow. But, Lovey has not gone to any sleepovers in St. Louis. So, when our daughter spent the night at a friend’s house the night before leaving for a ski vacation in Colorado, I did not pack Lovey in the overnight bag. Nor – for the first time – did I pack her for the vacation. It was an accident and I didn’t think of it until we were at the airport.

Lovey stayed home. I regret to say that we’re just fine.