For those of you who don’t know, D Man has a couple of besties who have been by his side since the word go.
Mister H and I bought Ratty when I was 5 months pregnant on a road trip in South Australia wine country. I had to blow my dosh on something seeing as I wasn’t purchasing vino.
I saw this boggly eyed, ugly-cute critter and I knew that that Rat was my unborn child’s first plushie.
Koe (pronounced Koo) is a Dutch cow, gifted by Oma and Opa. She is black and white, and soft in all the right places to make her perfect for schnuggles.
She says ‘Boo’ instead of ‘Moo’ because that’s how cows roll in Holland.
Boy has loved these two animals from the time that they were double his size.
He’d cuddle them, chew them and wrestle them and just generally love them hard. He used to suck them and make them outrageously smelly and gross, but I was scared if I washed them weekly they’d fall apart and we’d be down two family members. They had one good week and one stinky week and suffered baths fortnightly.
If they were in the washing machine, D Man was sitting in the laundry. If they were on the line drying, D Man was watching from the garden.
They were his special buddies.
They traveled the world with us. If those plushies has passports they’d be better stamped than many adults I know. Holland, Bali, Vietnam, Singapore and New Zealand for starters. Those little friends had soothed fears and comforted sads all along the way, and made impromptu pillows when weary heads needed to rest.
Although Rat is The One, Koe stows away to kindy in D Man’s bag every single Tuesday and Thursday. They just feel better knowing each other is near.
When your child has a special plushy friend it’s a bit of a double edged sword. You know that if you’re going somewhere you can take them and your child will feel at home, but if you lose them?????
You’re in a world of hurt.
Can you see where this is going????
Last night. Bed time. Teeth are cleaned, jammies are on, we’re heading off to the Land of Nod and the standard call came.
‘Where’s Ratty and Koe?’
Off we went to find Ratty and Koe. They’re usually in the lounge, strewn on the floor.
Not my room, nor the office, nor the laundry.
This was odd. None of the usual places was turning them up. D Man’s stress level began to rise. He started keening like a Mafia wife at the funeral, which unsettled Kiki who started yelling.
My stress levels began to rise…. I hadn’t had a wine yet.
It was time to get serious.
They were not in the back yard, or on the deck, not in the kitchen cupboards, pantry or fridge. Not in the dryer. Not in the……
I even checked the car. Not sure exactly how I imagined they’d get there on their own, but by now I wasn’t thinking straight. I was reaching panic mode.
It’s now 20 minutes past absolute final bedtime cut-off so I began to suggest that we sleep with another friend tonight. That didn’t go so well.
Now both children are screaming and crying and I’m pissed off. Slamming around trying to find that stupid Rat. I was going to ring his scrawny little neck for putting me through this trauma.
Finally, as I was in Kiki’s room patting her hysterical butt I just thought I’d open her wardrobe on the completely off chance that they were there, and LO and BEHOLD.
They were up high though so I think it was a little friend we had over on the afternoon. Unless D man put them there and forgot.
I was so relieved I forgot all about ringing Ratty’s neck. It was like the prodigal son returning and I totally would have slaughtered my only fattened lamb if I had one. I may have kissed that Rat’s muzzle with relief at his safe return, but I would never actually admit to it.
Once the house was settled and quiet, and I had a wine the size of my head in my hand, I thanked the Universe for returning them safely…. without them, I’d be completely farked.