It was starting to get at me like a thing–> buggin’ and thinkin’ on why we have so many stuffy’s. How did the acquisitions get so out of hand I wondered. Telling myself and that Grandma at the park who herself brought up the whole stuffy situation about our own mega-stash. I mean damn, we have a lot of stuffy’s. Really so many stuffy’s in this house. An overabundance of stuffy’s. Stuffy’s in that corner next to that pillow over there filling that chest and hooked to that backpack. Stuffy’s staring at me wherever I go.

Was edging on a complex about stuffy’s awhile back but since I’ve turned. Towards them.

They’ve grown on/with me. I know we are not rich but are rich and fortunate to have that many in our life.

We have so many stuffy’s in our rooms and I do full realize it’s too many for any one family

but

if we’ve got the space and love to give what’s the actual problem with stuffy’s? What’s my hardened deal? They’re cute and often meaningful and like hugs or team rebounds–> can you really have too many?

When I look at them I smile and remember the stuffy for that road-trip or that flu. The stuffy from that aunt or that book store and the stuffy that got at least one of us through at least tons of things. I look back on the stuffy meltdown when Nyla couldn’t remember the name of a tiny one and I feel something. The stuffy that went or purposefully stayed on sleepovers. The chosen stuffy(s).

Doug. Le Monkey. Avee the avocado and Snowy. Duke. Chip and Salsa. The hamster clan and their wild ways. Jerome the lobster. Lemur. Rabbit. Chaco. Chester. Connor. I honor you foxes and mice and elephants and owls and ninjagos we’ve had among us.

I’m hugging a black dragon right now and can’t remember its’ name. No complex–> No meltown–> just grateful now to have them all here.