The Importance Of Being Bunny

The Importance Of Being Bunny

She's not much to look at.

Her nubby fur is faded and she's showing the effects of too many close encounters with projectile vomit and juice spills.

Her seams have come loose and she's developed a "belly button" from my son unconsciously dipping his finger into her tummy while he sleeps.

Yes, Bunny's definitely seen better days.

But, as far as I'm concerned, she's the most beautiful stuffed bunny ever created and she’s priceless..

She’s priceless now, that is, but I bought Bunny for $12.99 on a whim during my seventh month of pregnancy. The crib awaiting my son's arrival was already overflowing with stuffed animals. But I couldn't resist the pink stuffed bunny when I spotted her at a local department store.

She reminded me of the stuffed bunny I'd had as a child -- soft, floppy and cuddly.

I placed her in the crib next to an assortment of teddy bears, an expensive walking giraffe from FAO Schwartz’ Toy Store and a Tickle Me Elmo doll.

But as soon as my son was old enough to reach out and grab, it was Bunny he reached for.

It wasn't until my son began to talk that we learned Bunny's gender. I made the mistake of referring to Bunny using the male pronoun, assuming his favorite stuffed animal would share his gender. My son quickly set me straight.

"Bunny's a she," he said firmly. "Her real name is Bunny but her nickname is Mary Margaret Susan," he added in a very serious tone, obviously misunderstanding the concept of nicknames.

Over the years, Bunny taught me so much about this amazing child I'd brought into this world.

The fact that she's a "she" showed me that he has no innate chauvinistic tendencies. He’s always treated his boy friends and his girl friends with equal consideration and respect.

Bunny’s shown me that that he's sentimental, gentle and caring. He’s protective of those he loves and steadfastly loyal.

Although consciously we knew we were dealing with a stuffed animal, Bunny became a part of the family. Somehow along the way, this cloth and fiber creature had assumed animate qualities.

We couldn't carry Bunny by the arm because it hurt her armpit. We’d leave the zipper on the diaper bag slightly open when we’d take bunny out so she wouldn’t suffocate.

Over the years, Bunny's joined us on nearly all of our family adventures. She looked down on the clouds from 30,000 feet while perched on my son's lap on a plane. She tolerated being spit upon by an irritable conch on a tropical island and sprayed by a waterfall in the Smoky Mountains. She was rescued from the teeth of our pet greyhound who decided Bunny needed a tour of our back yard and recovered from a good Samaritan after accidentally being left beneath a table at Carrabba's Italian Grill.

Once she even disappeared for a full, fretful week.

My son, 3 years old at the time, was inconsolable and my husband and I were frantic. We searched everywhere for bunny to no avail.

Fearing Bunny was lost forever, I tried to replace her with another bunny. It wasn't the same.

Then one day, while my son was watching "Teletubbies" in the other room, I heard a squeal of delight.

“Bunny!”

I ran to the family room to find him cradling Bunny in his arms. He'd discovered her beneath a cushion of the couch, a cushion both my husband and I swear we repeatedly looked under.

We concluded her return was nothing short of miraculous.

My son is now 14 years old.

He stopped falling asleep cradling Bunny in his arms when he was 9 years old.

I clearly remember the day he decided he was too old for Bunny. He was preparing to spend the night at a friend’s house and I started to put Bunny into his overnight bag. He halted my progress and announced that Bunny was going to remain at home.

I was stunned.

I was stunned. Sleep without Bunny? Does this herald the end of childhood?

That night Bunny slept with me as I lay awake wondering where the years had gone.

My fears were laid to rest a few days later as I was tucking my son into bed.

"Will Bunny always be with me, even when I die?” he asked.

In answer, I went to my bedroom to retrieve my own bunny, now minus ears and a tail from a traumatic encounter with my childhood dog, Mr. Spike.

I answered without hesitation.

"One way or another, I promise Bunny will always be with you."