My New Toy

I got a new toy last night. I bought it from the neighbor for the awesome price of carpooling his son to the high school. The best part about this is, I don't even drive to the high school. Kid A does. Ka-ching!

What did I buy? My very own bike. Squee. I feel like a little kid again. Remember how that felt? All that joy bottled up in your body just waiting to spill out in play?

Now, you should probably know that until about a week ago I hadn't ridden a bike in twenty years. Okay maybe more than that, but who's counting? Not me. Shudder. So, how did I go from bikeless and rideless for decades to owning a bike in seven short days? You know the friend who got me into longboarding? Yup. Need I say more? She's contagious in a very good way. Except she wants me to try bridge jumping next. Ummmmm. Yeah, not so sure on that one.

But! Biking is so fun...and so much harder than I remember it. Of course, I do live on the side of a mountain so there is a lot of uphill involved. As a kid I mostly rode on flat ground. Smart kid.

But! (And yes, I can keep starting paragraphs with but because I am not in English class.) Everything that goes up must come down, and boy is down fun!

What does this have to do with writing? Scads! Often as writers we plod along forever, writing the same thing, then rewriting it. And then rewriting it. And then...yes, rewriting it. While this is good and necessary to perfect your book, sometimes we need a change. A new toy to play with. We need something that reminds us of the joy we can experience as writers. We need to play, yes with words. Fun ones. Words that make us go squee as we barrel downhill. Yes, writing takes work, lots of it, but it's supposed to be awesome. Remember awesome?

My challenge today is to play with your writing. Write something different and maybe even frivolous. Start a new project, forge ahead into new territory. Get a new toy. And make sure it makes you squee with joy. Really. Put aside the thirteenth draft of your novel and just play with words today. You might just remember what made you want to be a writer in the first place.

The World's Most Beloved Toy

My son's heart belongs to a little stuffed elephant. They've been together for years. You've all heard stories about the dog that waits for his master to come home, or the kid who loves his blanket, or the undying affection of a faithful friend. Kid C's love for Baby the elephant eclipses them all.

You may think I'm joking. I'm not. Adoration is too weak a word for this child's feelings. He snuggles Baby, talks to Baby, sleeps with Baby, and pets Baby. He even wears Baby around on his shoulder like an emaciated parrot.

The only time they're apart is when we pry Baby from his fingers just before Kid C steps on the bus. Then Baby waits by the front door for his return, and Kid C's first words when he steps off the bus are, "Where's Baby?"

They go to church together. Kid C smuggles him into the store, takes him to the swimming pool, parties, the movies, everywhere. They're inseparable. It's as if the entire capacity of my son's heart is invested in this small stuffed animal.

That is why we have a problem. A big problem. Here is Baby.



Baby is dying. And I'm afraid.

What you can't see in this pic are scars from the scores of times Baby has gone under the knife for emergency surgery. This little guy has had more stitches than a shark attack victim. But you can only mend fabric so many times before it breaks down and shreds. Baby is beyond shredding. He's disintegrating on a molecular level.

We had a new "Baby" made because we foresaw this bleak day. But new Baby lies abandoned and alone in the depths of Kid C's closet. There is no love for new Baby. You can't transfer feelings like this from one toy to the other.

My mom suggested we place Baby's remains in a cardboard box and hold a service in the back yard. I can't do it. The grief would be too much. So we'll stand by and watch as Baby loses limbs, or more likely his whole torso. I have no doubt Kid C will then carry Baby's head around on his shoulder and love him all the more fiercely to make up for Baby's loss.

I don't know what we'll do to make up for Kid C's loss when Baby's fibers finally collapse into a dingy pile of dust, but we stand by with new Baby and hope it will be enough.

What favorite toys have your children loved and lost? How about you? Do you have memories of a cherished friend?