I can almost remember the lineup. Brenya, Rachel, white kitten, Baby Popple, Caramel and something else which I've forgotten. They laid by me each night like soldiers. In order and taking up more space than I did. But they were necessary for a good night sleep. They were my security.
I cannot remember the last time I slept with them. I cannot remember why I eventually packed them up. The memory of having them is so clear... yet the memory of outgrowing them has slipped my mind.
They have since been returned to me and I've excitedly offered them to my own children, halfway expecting them to cling to them as I once did. Yet, they did not. My kids adopted their own security items. Especially Ross.
He's slept with the 'pack', the 'heard', the 'farm' since he's been in a crib. I suppose that's why it caught me off guard when he decided to pack up his animals. In his words, "I don't want to get rid of them, I just want them off my bed. Except Hippo. He can stay".
He stuffed them into a Menards sack which he threw onto the top shelf of his closet.
I realize it's a perfectly normal right-of-passage he was bound to go through. Lord knows I don't want him taking his 'pack' with him to college... but still.
I know one day he'll probably pass them onto his own kids. I also know his kids won't love them nearly as much as he has.
His animals' job has ended.
I swear it's like Toy Story all over again around here and I'm an emotional wreck. Damn hormones.
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