Poor Teddy is suffering through his first serious loss. Yesterday his dummies all went to the fairy babies down the bottom of of the garden.
Ted's love for Pink One, Green One and Blue One was deep. Once I watched him take one dummy out of his mouth, turn to another and say lovingly 'Your turn.' His love was passionate, but non-exclusive.
He was right into the whole plan to deliver his dummies to the needy fairy babies, just like his big sister had done. 'E-scawy babies want my dummy, mama' he's been saying for a few days. Yesterday the big exchange came.
I felt a little like a heartless salesman ensnaring a hapless sap into a Ponzi scheme as I led Ted with his little bag down to the bottom of the garden. He could talk the talk, but you can see here that his understanding of the fine print of the deal he was entering was limited.
The fairy babies left Ted a present - a big blue dog with cuddly arms and legs to replace his lost plastic friends. Initially, Ted was excited by Big Dog, but when he went to bed last night, he really struggled with his loss.
He took an hour to get to sleep and he tried all his tricks, one by one. Keith and I took turns. 'I dot poo-bum, Mummy!', he tried first; then - bush-baby style: 'I dot tick, Mummy!' and finally, hopelessly: 'But I haffa watch Masterchef!' He furiously rejected our weak replacement. 'Big Dog det outa the bed!'he ordered, weeping. Finally, after a full bedside Wiggles concert, he fell asleep.
I woke him from his sleep this afternoon and he stumbled to his feet and then finished the dance move that he's been doing in some sort of Saturday Night Fever dream. His face was blank but his bod was popping. He was a happy little man, and there was no mention of the dummies. Ah, Ted, will your heartbreaks always be so intense, yet so easily overcome?