They freak out when I reach for the pen, but Ashley is speaking Golden Words of Blogginess. I must document. She is carrying Bear, her forearm-sized teddy bear, being sure to support the neck. "He needs surgery," she says. And her mom will do it. Again. Bear's life has been marred by many unfortunate complications of over-loving.
He is nearly two-dimensional; no longer qualifies as a stuffed animal. At age 24*, Ashley still sniffs the places fur used to be**. She wants to know the age when people are forced to give up their childhood companions. We recount lost blankies, toys.
Jill wrenches her legs to keep from peeing, laughing as Ashley holds her small friend up to her breast. She looks up, pleased with herself: "Have you ever seen me look as natural as this?" In the silence that follows before the uproar, we look at her and shake our heads. Um...Nope. You're totally going to make a great mom, Ash, as long as the baby is filled with batting***.
*Soon enough.
**Bear's Extreme Weight Loss Plan For Stuffed Animals: get all the fur sniffed off of you.
***And you wait for 5-10 years.
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