The Ballad of Sophie Bear.

At Christmastime last year, A and I were celebrating our last holiday season without child (besides the 7-months-along bump in my gut), and were excited to share our excitement with our family about the impending arrival of the baby then known as Sophia. To celebrate, A's sister bought us a blanket like this (but pink), and had it embroidered with the name "Sophia." It was adorable, well-received, and appropriately named.

Then A and I freaked out over how popular the name was, decided to go back to the drawing board and eventually came to the final decision of Punky's actual name -- and it wasn't Sophia. A's sister was openly miffed that we'd changed the name after she'd gone to such trouble to get it embroidered.


Eventually I gave it to Punky and it has since become her favorite lovie, and it is now known as her Sophie Bear. Sophia is the bear's name. Of course it would be embroidered on the blankie, right? Sophie Bear is the ultimate sign of bedtime for Punky. The instant her tiny little fingers wrap around it, her thumb goes into her mouth and her eyelids get heavy. Sophie Bear comes along on all car trips, all overnight trips, and is a staple of every nap and bedtime.

So basically, Sophie Bear gets the shit beat out of her.

Today I realized one of the satin "pads" of Sophie Bear's paws had come undone and the stuffing was coming out. So I did what any mother would do -- I performed emergency surgery. In an act of sheer mommy genius, I took a 1" thick satin ribbon and first hot-glue-gunned it around the "wound," then wrapped it around and stitched it in place all the way around. Easy enough fix, except for the fact that I had a screaming, SCREAMING Punky sitting at my feet grappling for her beloved Sophie Bear.


I mean, I knew she loved Sophie, but I didn't realize that at nearly nine months, she'd created such a strong bond that she was genuinely concerned for Sophie as she underwent a pink satin graft. I wound up going to our bedroom and shutting myself in so I could quickly finish up. Punky proceeded to CHASE ME DOWN and sit at the bedroom door wailing as A tried to console her.

I finished up, handed Sophie Bear back to her rightful owner, and Punky's tiny little death grip wouldn't let up even through dinner. And I didn't have the heart to take it away after the trauma we'd all just experienced.

Back-up Sophie Bears have since been added to Punky's growing Christmas list.